


Tender Madness

by Alexandria_K



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Character Development, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Intimacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-02 09:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandria_K/pseuds/Alexandria_K
Summary: After traveling to Knowhere following a foreboding transmission, Gamora finds herself in the company of her old acquaintance, the Collector. Takes place one year after the first GotG film.





	1. The Transmission

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing has been floating around in my head for months. They don't seem to be particularly popular, but they makes perfect sense in my head. (I've rated M for mature content in eventual chapters.) Enjoy, and please let me know what you think. (By the way, I have also posted this to my FFN account. It is under the same pin name [Alexandria K], for anyone of you who may have seen it there.)

"Gamora, you got a transmission."

The little genetically engineered raccoon sauntered unapologetically into Peter's sleeping compartment to find Gamora and Peter engrossed in conversation. The pair glanced briefly from where they sat on the floor of the _Milano_ before returning to their discussion. Quill was in the midst telling Gamora another fascinating story about Earth's pop culture.

"Just a moment Rocket," she replied, placing a finger in the air to silence him. "Now Peter, I don't understand. How did their singing and dancing fuel this "Greased Lightning" to levitate from Earth? You cannot sustain a ship with sound. They're just vibrations. Waves that propagate through a medium. It makes no sense."

Peter sighed, scratching his temple. Explaining Earth concepts to Gamora was often akin to making a metaphorical joke to Drax. Nonetheless, her reactions to his stories always left him amused, and Gamora herself enjoyed hearing his strange tales.

"It wasn't just the dancing and singing." He smirked leaning in close to her. "It was love."

A smile teased her verdian lips as she narrowed her eyes playfully at him, replying, "That, Peter Quill, is utterly unbelievable. I much prefer the legend of Kevin Bacon. He was far more valiant."

With a groan, Rocket ambled up to the duo and plopped the transreceiver on Gamora's lap. She looked down at it with surprise, not having heard the little mammal walk up behind her. The device was flashing wildly, indicating she had an incoming call.

"Thanks Rocket." Flipping the receiver over, she checked the transmission ID. It read Anonymous. "Peter, do you think I could have a moment to take this?"

"Not a problem," he quickly returned, hurrying to the doorway with Rocket by his side. "Oh! I got another good one for you when you're finished. It's called the tale of _West Side Story_." With a quick wink he left the room leaving her in silence.

Gamora could not help but smile to herself once she was alone. Peter was a strange Terran, and incredibly goofy, but she felt closer to him than any of her other shipmates. In fact, how she viewed Peter was in a category all together separate from the others. That was not a fact she necessarily liked acknowledging, but it could hardly be overlooked with how much time they were spending together lately.

Sighing, she opened her transreceiver. There were not many who knew her private frequency, so she was curious as to who was calling her. For a moment the transmission screen was black, but after several seconds of establishing a connection, an image formed. Gamora's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"My dear Gamora." A subtle smile ghosted across the man's lips. "Hello again."

She found herself at a loss for words as she absorbed the image before her, her mouth parting in silent shock. Uncertainly, she whispered his name.

"Tivan?"

The black mark on his lower lip curved as his grin grew.

"The one and only, my lady."

Nearly a year had passed since she last exchanged words with Taneleer. The day their ragtag team presented him with the orb on Knowhere was the last time the two had spoken. She could hardly fathom the reason he was calling upon her now.

"I know my call is unexpected," he purred, his smirk fading. "But the matter is urgent, so I will be to the point. I require your presence here, on Knowhere."

"My presence on Knowhere?" She repeated in a baffled tone. "Why, exactly?"

Glancing from the screen, his expression grew grave. Absently, he drew a few tendrils of his platinum locks around a finger as he spoke.

"I don't feel it is safe to disclose the details over a transmission. We need to speak face-to-face." Before she could protest, he fixed her with a serious glance. "I will tell you this much, however. It concerns the fate of the universe."

Tilting her head to the side, she knitted her brow and whispered, "Are people in danger?"

He nodded slowly, his heavily hooded eyes following her in motion with his chin.

"You want our help then?"

"No," he snapped suddenly, startling her. "I want _your_ help."

"Mine...? That's absurd, why -"

"I've said enough," he grumbled, sitting back. "I expect your presence on Knowhere within the next several days. _Alone_."

The transmission cut out before she could say another word.

It was in Tivan's style to leave a cryptic message. Under different circumstances she would have completely dismissed it, but given the content of his transmission she could not so easily sweep his message under the rug. To have not spoken to him in well over a year, only to receive such a brief and urgent call unnerved her.

" _I will tell you this much, however. It concerns the fate of the universe."_

The words haunted her as she gazed at the empty transreceiver. If going to Knowhere meant she could save the lives of innocent creatures, Gamora would willingly travel to his lair. Still, there was no way of knowing what Taneleer was playing at by asking her to come alone. The odd request would have been unbelievable if not for his tone. Something about his voice told her he was speaking the truth.

"Gamora." Peter's voice tore her from her thoughts. As engrossed as she was in her ruminations, she had not heard him come in. "Tell me you're not seriously considering going to Knowhere."

"You were listening to my transmission?" She asked, slightly insulted.

"I didn't mean to," he muttered apologetically. "But, come on, you can't trust that kleptomaniac. I mean, you remember don't you, the guy wanted to turn Groot into an armoire! He's a nut job."

Shifting away from him, she let out a frustrated huff. Quill's eavesdropping had peeved her.

"You don't know a thing about Taneleer Tivan, Peter." She captured his gaze again briefly, her brown eyes blazing. "You don't know what he _is_. I don't trust him. Not for a long shot. But if he says the universe is in danger, I won't take it lightly."

While it was true Tivan appeared as little more than an eccentric with too much time and money on his hands, there was more to him than met the eye. In fact, it was upon the _Dark Asther_ that Gamora first learned of the Collector's existence. Consequently, it was also how she came to strike an eventual deal with him regarding the orb. She recalled the very words as they fell from Ronan's mouth that night.

" _But there_ is _one who could pose a threat to you Thanos." Ronan bellowed through the murky darkness._

_The Mad Titan chuckled, voice brimming with amusement._

" _Taneleer Tivan?"_

" _The great Collector," Ronan rejoined, his voice baritone. "He is one of the Elders of the Universe, is he not? Older than you, Thanos. Arguably more powerful."_

_A sudden roar of laughter echoed throughout the chamber._

" _Old and powerful he may be, but he is equally as deluded. Tivan lost his way long ago. Once I might have feared him, but now he is nothing more than a simple-minded hoarder. He is no threat to me, boy."_

The notion of another sentient more powerful than Thanos intrigued Gamora immensely. For her entire life, she was lead to believe there were none more great and deadly than the Mad Titan. Knowing there _was_ one who could match or supersede her maniacal father fascinated her. Later, upon learning of Ronan's intentions regarding Xandar, she could think of no one more suited to receive the orb. If he truly were an Elder of Universe, he could easily conceal the artifact, or so she thought.

"Alright." Peter paced the small compartment impatiently, his hands anchored on his hips. "Well, what I do know is the man is a weirdo, and you're not going there alone."

The look Gamora shot Quill made him bite his tongue.

"You will _not_ tell me what I can and cannot do Peter Quill!" Marching past him, she set her sights on the exit of the room. "You seem to forget who exactly I am!"

Before she could bound through the door, he arrested one of her emrald wrists in his hand.

"Fine, fine. We'll drop you off at Knowhere. Then, come pick you up when you're –"

"No!" She interrupted abruptly, twisting in his grasp. "I'll take myself to Knowhere."

Peter's expression immediately sharpened. With a sudden jerk, he pulled her backwards and captured her in his arms. Circling one arm around her slender waist, he positioned her head in the crook of his neck.

"Gamora," he breathed heavily into her ear. "If I insulted you, I'm sorry. Please...don't be like this."

His lips so near to the base of her ear made her shiver.

"Peter, I'm going alone." As he drew his fingers over the bare skin of her mid drift, caressing her softly, she nearly gasped. "I need my independence back. I need remember who I _am_ -" A an abrupt moan left her lips as his mouth careened the flesh of her neck. "I...need to get away from you."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" He whispered, teeth grazing the base of her neck.

In fact, it was not what she wanted, and that very truth agitated her. She did not _want_ to go to Knowhere. She wanted to stay there, on the _Milano_ , with Quill and her friends. What she needed, however, was to get away from him. With each passing day she was falling deeper under the Terran's spell. His touch had become more frequent, and she had come to not only expect it, but welcome it. In his proximity her mind grew foggy. What she needed was clarity.

Releasing herself from his grasp, she took several steps forward before breaking their momentary silence.

"Take me to the moon of Pyrus. We're close, and I can rent a ship there. Tivan will transfer me the credits."

The look on Peter's face almost broke her resolve. His expression was wounded.

"You don't have to run from this Gamora."

She held his gaze for several moments before turning away.

"Yes. I do."


	2. High Stakes

With a sigh, Gamora reclined in the seat of her temporary vessel.

She was weary, but unable to sleep. Thoughts of Peter plagued her mind. The somber expression he wore as her transport vessel descended from the _Milano_ ate at her. He had fought valiantly to stop her from leaving. It was a gesture she was not entirely sure how to interpret. On one hand, she saw his opposition as a sign of utter disrespect. On the other, a symbol of his affection for her.

When she was able to push the memories of her forlorn Terran aside, another source of anxiety surfaced.

What exactly awaited her on Knowhere? What kind of threat was the universe facing now?

 _And, most importantly,_ she thought, gazing steadily at the Celestial head coming into view before her. _Is this just some kind of trap?_

She did not trust Taneleer, but could conceive no reason for a betrayal on his part. Still, she intended on keeping her guard firm. The Collector was an Elder. He preceded her by millennia. With his age came great knowledge, intelligence, and cunning. To show weakness in his wake would be foolish on multiple levels.

Weaving her ship through the expanse of the mining colony, Gamora caught sight of Tivan's familiar residence on the horizon. It was larger and more choice than most on Knowhere, its size alone eclipsing the surrounding buildings. Like a beacon in the distance, it drew her closer. She had been instructed to land in his docking station, and was pleased to find it open and ready for her arrival. There would be no waiting in the chaotic mess of the adjacent bar, the Boot of Jemiah, this time.

Descending into the holding bank, she landed in the spacious port. While she felt anxious to be in his bearings alone, she was eager to leave her vessel. The trip from Pyrus to Knowhere had been lengthy and her limbs ached from the flight. Being free of the craft nearly brought a smile to her lips, but the sound of footsteps in the distance arrested it.

"Mistress Gamora," a voiced echoed.

Turning, the olive-skinned beauty caught sight of an approaching woman with coral skin. It was unmistakably a Krylorian. A slave of Taneleer's. The woman was fashioned much like his previous attendant. Secretly, she wondered just how many poor Krylorian women Tivan had burnt through over the decades.

"My master waits for you in the main hall. Do come."

With a curtsey the woman turned and teetered out of the docking station. Gamora followed close behind, noting with interest that the interior of his repository was no longer a shambled mess. The damage the Infinity Stone had wrought on his dwelling was seemingly repaired. Many of his artifacts, both animate and inanimate, were once again in their exhibition cases. The main hall, restored as it was, was much as she remembered it.

Even Tivan looked unchanged.

He stood motionlessly on the far side of the foyer. scrutinizing a large piece of parchment. Naturally, he was clothed in an eccentric garb. Furs and expensive fabrics littered with curious patterns embellished his cloak. He was a bizarre spectacle to behold.

Noticing the movement in the room, the Collector glanced up with interest and raised his brow. Removing his thick spectacles, he sauntered towards them idly, the lengthy layers of his embellished fabric swinging gently as he approached. She observed his movements with caution. The room surrounding her suddenly felt more small, and she more breathless the closer he converged.

"My, my," he muttered, closing the distance between them. "Gamora, my dear."

Bowing his head, he captured one of her hands and lifted it to his lips. His kiss was firm and lingered longer than made her comfortable. A subtle grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he gauged her reaction beneath his heavy lids. Languidly, he trailed his mouth from the center of her hand down to the tips of her fingers, releasing her softly as his lips met their end.

"I've said it once before Tivan, but your formalities are unnecessary." Slightly flustered, Gamora crossed her arms against her chest and raised her chin firmly. "I want explanations and I want them now."

A gruff, hollow laugh issued forth from his chest at her apparent agitation.

"What the lady wants, the lady gets," he sang, amusement visible on his beige visage. "What does the lady want to know?"

"Tivan, do not play games with me," she nearly growled. "I did not travel all the way from Pyrus to entertain your quips. Tell me _why_ I'm here."

"Of course, of course." He sighed, motioning to a chair. "Then you must sit, Gamora. There is much to tell."

Gingerly, she obeyed, seating herself before him and showering him with a gloomy pout.

"It all started long ago, during the reign of the Eternals." He settled himself opposite of her, intently monitoring her features as he spoke. "There existed two brothers, Kronos and Quandros. Both men were powerful and renown, but Kronos surpassed his sibling in every way. You see, envy drove the lesser brother insane. His spite wrought a need within for power and control. In jealousy, he plotted to kill his brother and absorb his strength. However, before Quandros could follow through with this plan, a vision of betrayal struck Kronos. Knowing he could not bear to to kill his own blood and stop him, Kronos did something drastic. He concentrated all his power into his most mighty weapon, the Xiphos, killing himself in the process."

"The Xiphos?" Gamora echoed, eyes softening slightly. "The Xihpos of Kronos Tassarion?"

Taneleer grinned.

"You have heard of it?"

"Once, a long time ago, but..." She looked away from him in confusion. "The existence of that weapon is mere legend. Besides, they say it is –"

"Lost?" He finished, raising his platinum brow. "And so it was, for before Kronos died he cast the sword deep into the depths of the universe to hide it from his brother. It was never found again."

"Until now," she rejoined, studying him with puzzled eyes. "But, by whom?

"A primitive race. They live on a planet called Mo'krak on the fringe of the universe. Their species is yet evolving and cannot comprehend what it is they possess. They keep it hidden in a shrine of worship, but nothing more. Unfortunately, the weapon has garnered the attention of... _others_ , besides I."

For a moment Gamora sat in silence. If what little she knew of Xiphos was true, it was indeed a terrifying artifact. One that would best be kept hidden away.

"This weapon can kill in a single strike, can't it?"

"It can melt the very skin from your bones with a solitary blow. Reduce you to a pile tissue and blood with a touch." As he spoke, his monotone voice grew deeper and more fanatic. "For a more powerful user, it could burn the flesh from every organic creature on a planet."

Gamora started at his last sentence.

"An entire planet?" She murmured, nearly breathless.

Taking a step towards her, he leaned in close, whispering softly, "An _entire_ planet."

The idea of another artifact existing with such power made her feel ill. She could hardly bear the thought of a weapon of such magnitude falling into the wrong hands. The very notion incited memories of the Infinity Stone and Ronan's lust for the destruction of Xandar. It also reminded her of her own species' annihilation at the hands of Thanos. With these memories came a deep pang of sadness.

"Why should I trust you with such a powerful weapon?" She asked quietly, trying to settle her emotions. "Something this deadly would be safer in the hands of the Nova Corps."

Licking his lips, Tivan smiled icily at her beneath his heavily-hooded eyes.

"You need not worry Gamora. If I desired to burn a race of sentients from existence, I would have done so already. I want the Xiphos for my collection. That is all. It will be just as safe in my possession as in the hands of your intergalactic watch dogs."

She knew he spoke the truth. There were likely hundreds of lethal relics in Tivan's care. She could only imagine how many deadly artifacts he had amassed throughout the millennia.

"Fine, but answer me this – why do you need _me_ to retrieve it for you? Why did you forbid my friends from accompanying me here?"

"We have worked together before," he answered nonchalantly. "As for those idiots align yourself with, I don't trust them with such sensitive information. They're not like you, Gamora." Approaching her, he arrested a strand of her hair between his fingers, pulling at it softly before releasing it. "They lack your...morality."

Recoiling from his touch, she sighed and swept a hand through her dark tresses. Whether Tivan was aware of it or not, he was playing upon her weaknesses. His was an offer she could not refuse. Gamora's scathing past made it impossible for her to overlook the ordeal laid before her. She would never allow another race to perish the way her own had. It was an easy decision.

"I accept your mission."

Tivan's hazel eyes widened momentarily before melting into a semblance of pleasure. Dramatically, he bowed before her, extending his arms to his side whilst twirling his wrists.

"Oh, _Gamora_ , a wise choice. A wise choice indeed."

"I hope it is," she warned, crossing her slender arms across her chest.

"You will be compensated for your efforts, of course," his sullen voice droned. "I hope sixty thousand units sounds...reasonable."

In truth, for the work she was agreeing to do, the amount sounded feeble. Still, she would have settled for less. This was not a mission she was completing for the sake of units. Instead, a sense of duty drove her. She nodded curtly in agreement.

"Beautiful!" He sang, twirling round as a raspy chuckle erupted from his chest.

As she watched his extravagant display, the weight of her fatigue resurfaced abruptly. Her body still ached from her long journey and sleep gnawed relentlessly at the back of her consciousness, begging for admittance. She needed rest. Not only physically, but mentally. Her mind hungered for a much needed repose. Tivan's words had spurred hundreds of unsettling thoughts, and she lacked the mental strength to tackle them at present.

"Since we've settled the basics, I hope you won't mind if I retire. We can negotiate the specifics in the morning."

Turning from him, Gamora started down the path she and his Krylorian entered upon her landing, but stopped at the sound of heavy foot steps echoing behind her at an alarming pace. Before she could turn her curious gaze, Tivan stood before her, obstructing her path.

"Might I ask where you're going?" He questioned, his golden brow lifted.

Gamora's mouth grew tight. She tried to conceal her annoyance for sake of civility.

"My ship," she answered evenly.

"Unnecessary. We've prepared a room for you near my living quarters."

Gamora exhaled audibly. There was little more off putting than idea of spending her stay on Knowhere in Tivan's lair. With chagrin, she gazed at the eerie exhibition capsules above them. Many of the creatures stared quietly at her from behind their encasements. Those that were sentient and could comprehend their language seemed to watch with a glint of interest.

"My ship will do," she muttered dismissively, trying to side step him.

Her attempt was abruptly met with his looming physique once more. Glancing up at him, she found his countenance sullen. His dank features regarded her with a chilly air.

"My lady, as your host I simply could not allow that."

The subtle edge in his voice was enough to soften her opposition. In a less fatigued state, she would have pushed him further. However, as tired as she was, she lacked the will to argue. Sighing in defeat, she took a step back from his uncomfortable proximity

" _Fine_ , I'll stay here."

A satisfied smirk curved his lips.

"Margery!" With a wave of his long fingers, embellished queerly with various rings, the Krylorian approached them. "Show Gamora to her room. Make sure she is comfortable." Turning his attention back to the olive-skinned assassin, he continued, "She will bring you your things shortly."

With a terse nod, Gamora turned from her persistent host and trailed behind the woman.

 _Finally_ , she thought, as she followed his attendant through the bulk of menagerie.

She was glad to be free of him.

Tivan was overbearing. Being alone is his company made her anxious. More anxious than she had expected. She attributed the feeling to the absence of her companions. The five of them were so acclimated to being together that acting singularly often felt foreign. Gamora derived peace of mind from knowing Peter, Drax, Rocket, or Groot were nearby if anything were to go awry. Without them she felt exposed. Vulnerable.

 _Which is exactly why this is good for me_ , she mused. _My dependence on my friends has made me weak._

"Mistress Gamora," his servant called suddenly. "We are here."

As if waking from a trance, she surveyed her surroundings with interest. They appeared to be, from what she could discern, in a normal looking dwelling. The floors were made of tile, the walls bore a deep maroon, and furniture was tastefully situated throughout. Most shocking of all, there were no specimens to behold.

"Where _are_ we?" She questioned, her pretty features masked in confusion.

"In the south wing, my lady. My master's living quarters."

"Living quarters?" She echoed, remembering his words.

The area was, to her amusement, decorated much in Taneleer's style. Large paintings garnished the walls, and upon every table sat a vase with large, beautiful flowers. The furniture was a dark burnished wood that complimented the maroon. Much like Tivan himself, the composition was altogether dramatic.

"Yes, lady Gamora, and this is your room."

Opening the door, the two entered the accommodations. It was decorated much like the main foyer, the color scheme consistent. A large bed sat in the room's center along with an adjacent nightstand. Other bedroom apparel such as a closet, dresser, and small desk were also present. On the far side of the room was another door.

"Not bad," she whispered, eying the bed with fatigue, her lust for sleep mounting.

"My master will be glad to hear you are pleased. If you require anything further, water, blankets, towels, please alert me. Your personal lavatory is over there," she added, pointing the closed door. "I will be back with your belongings shortly."

With a final curtsey the Krylorian exited the chamber, her pigtails bouncing in motion with her gait.


	3. Nightmares

 

 

 

Gamora relished the feeling of the soft comforter beneath her body. It was heaven compared to the small bunk she made use of on her rental craft. Tossing in the large bed, she opened one of the bags Margery delivered to her from the vessel. The first thing she noticed was her trans-receiver. She opened it, her chest tightening as she noted the missed transmissions.

_Peter Quill – (6:02:27)_

_Peter Quill – (6:59:15)_

_Peter Quill – (8:02:36)_

Pinching her brow, Gamora tossed the device back into the bag. She was too exhausted at present to contact Quill. Although she felt guilty, she could not will herself return the transmissions. Far too much had happened since her landing on Knowhere, and knowing Peter and the rest of her crew, they would demand a full report of the situation. The mere thought of explaining the nature of the Xiphos to her four companions made her weary. A return message would have to wait till the morning.

Yawning weakly, Gamora began the task of removing her travel clothes. The more fatigued she became, the tighter her leather attire felt against her skin. She desperately wanted to shimmy out of the suffocating outfit and drift to sleep. Rummaging through her bag, she searched for the tank top she often wore to bed only to find Peter's familiar cassette player. Inside the device was a tape labeled _Awesome Mix Vol. 1_.

Pulling the headphones over her ears, she hit the play button.

" _I must have been through about a million girls. I'd love 'em then I'd leave 'em alone. I didn't care how much they cried, no sir. Their tears left me cold as a stone. But then I fooled around and fell in love. I fooled around and fell in love, yes I did..."_

A smile stole across her lips as she listened.

Peter.

He must have stashed the cassette player in her bag while she was in the midst of packing. The melody always reminded her of the evening the two spent on Knowhere nearly a year ago. As she lay there, the Terran's tune slowly lulling her to sleep, she slipped off the remainder of her clothing and slid the tank top on her body. A quick flick of the light switch near the nightstand propelled the room into sudden darkness. Before long, the green-skinned beauty was fast asleep.

Gamora's dreams were tame at first.

She stood aboard the _Milano_ alone, the whereabouts of her companions unknown. Above her, the cabin lights flickered spasmodically, casting the flight deck into sudden bouts of utter blackness. The oscillation of the lights was disorienting, and tried as she might to find the backup electricity hull, she could not. The apparatus had seemingly vanished.

With a sudden, deafening _pop_ , every light aboard the ship fizzled out.

The darkness was thick and murky. As she reached into the blackness, cautiously feeling her surroundings, a large hand arrested her searching limb. She cried out as the unknown being flung her upon the cool metal floor. She struck the deck harshly, her back throbbing at the impact. Before she could scramble away, her assailant pinned her tightly against the ground, the massive hand crushing her wrists beneath their own.

" _Beloved daughter_ ," the familiar voice bellowed. " _How_ dare _you shame me_."

The grip on her wrists tightened until the bones in her cybernetically enhanced limbs snapped.

Gamora bolted upright.

The silence in the room was deafening. Peter's tape had long since finished its compilation of songs. She trembled slightly in the darkness, her body coated in a thin layer of cold sweat. Wiping the wetness from her brow, she peered into inky blackness of the room, exhaling shaky breaths.

This was not the first dream she had of Thanos, nor would it be the last.

The Mad Titan often invaded her dreams, turning them to bloody nightmares. Most were brutal. More brutal than the terror she just experienced. Though it was comparably tame, the ghostly pain that lingered on her wrists still left her shaken. While these visions of her estranged father were not uncommon, the frequency with which they occurred was steadily increasing. Gamora hoped the phenomenon owed no explanation.

As she mused over the unpleasant nightmare, a light rapping at her door became audible.

Immediately, she sat upright. A sudden awareness of her surroundings began to dawn on her. She composed herself with haste and slipped out of the large, foreign bed. Conscious of her bare legs, she fumbled in the darkness for a pair of spandex pants before making her way to the door.

"Who's there?" She asked, slipping on the black bottoms as she spoke.

Silence followed her inquiry.

Sighing to herself, she combed briefly through her dark tresses and adjusted her sleeveless top before opening the door.

"Ah," Tivan purred as the door swung ajar. "I hope I did not wake you Gamora."

Taneleer stood reclined against the wall opposite of her doorway. The embellished robe seemingly discarded, he wore only a well-fitted silken tunic. Its onyx fabric glittered iridescently beneath the light of the hallway. In his right hand were two small glasses. Both were filled to the brim with a clear liquid. Gamora observed him cautiously behind the door frame before stepping out into the hall.

"No, you didn't wake me," she murmured, crossing her arms against her chest. "What do you want?"

Smirking, he drew himself away from the wall and took several steps towards her.

"I wished to inquire whether or not you would be interested in joining me. For a drink."

Tivan raised one of the glasses in the air before presenting it to her. She stared at it for several moments, shifting her gaze from the glass to Tivan. His hazel eyes revealed little regarding his intentions. Still, Gamora was wary of the offer, unable to regard it as a simple, friendly invitation. Tivan was a businessman, and for such a person interactions were not had for the sake of enjoyment. There was always something to be gained.

Reaching forward slowly, she took the glass from his long fingers. Swirling the neck between her thumb and forefinger, she steadily inspected the contents before suddenly presenting it back to him. He stared at her with surprise, understanding evolving slowly across his languid features.

"You think I mean to poison you?" He asked, humor dancing in his eyes.

"Just being cautious," she returned. "Consider my situation, Tivan."

"Very well. Let me quell your fears."

Tivan seized the neck of the glass, clutching her own hand in the process, and pressed the rim to his mouth. His eyes never left hers as he sipped down the contents. Despite several fortuitous tugs on her part, he did not loosen his hold until the entire glass was drained. As she drew her arm back, he abruptly caught it once more, pulling her slight body to the base of his chest. This time, with a softer touch.

"I do hope you trust me now," he muttered. "My intentions are not to harm you. We are allies."

His grip around her arm slackened, and she drew her arrested limb back to her side with a wary eye.

"Perhaps for now," she mouthed inaudibly, following him closely as he disappeared into the parlor.

* * *

The room was quaint and dimly lit. Tivan's sullen voice filled the air of the empty chamber as he spoke. She listened passively, busying herself instead with the couch below. With her fingers, she navigated across the plush material, tracing its pattern with the tips of her nails.

"Gamora," Tivan called suddenly, interrupting her focus. "Another glass?"

She quickly declined, shaking her head at his inquiry. The wine was potent. Its effects were slowly ebbing away at her composure. The more she felt herself slip, the harder she concentrated on intricate design.

"It seems two was more than enough."

Taneleer grinned, picking up the bottle and pouring several more ounces into his empty glass.

"You don't drink much, do you?"

"No – nothing like _that_ at least."

" _This?_ " He asked, motioning towards the bottle. " _This_ the famed wine of Mahrdrois."

"Then it makes perfect sense," she replied, crossing her legs. "The most notorious drunkards in the galaxy would make the strongest liquor."

"And the _finest_ , my dear."

Gamora sighed, staring at him briefly beneath her dark lashes. The pair had spent the last half an hour discussing trivial matters. The conversation had been too light for her taste. She doubted he cared much about her treacherously long flight from Pyrus, or any other minute details he inquired about. His polite etiquette left her frustrated. With so many more pressing matters at hand, such as the Xiphos or the very the fate of the universe, conversing about wine seemed frivolous.

"Tivan," she snapped suddenly, catching him slightly off guard. "Why did you really call on me?"

The Collector reclined into his arm chair, his gaze falling to the floor before ascending back to her.

"Straight to business as always, Gamora?" She nodded in response, an expectant look upon her features. "You sounded distressed. I heard you from the parlor."

Her sable eyes widened momentarily.

"Distressed?"

"Yes, I believe you were screaming, in fact."

She paused for a moment.

"Screaming? I… I must have been asleep."

"Presumably so," he replied, leaning forward.

Gamora took a deep breath, angling her face from Tivan to hide her expression.

Often when she dreamed of Thanos she became vocal. Her shipmates had, on several occasions, woke her from the depths of an unpleasant nightmare. While Peter and Drax were the only two persistent enough to coax the source of the terrors out of her, they had quickly relayed the information to Rocket. It was a touchy subject, and all three erred with caution when uttering name _Thanos_ around Gamora as of late.

Swallowing down her embarrassment, she donned her steeliest look of confidence.

"I must have had a very exciting dream," she stated nonchalantly, shrugging her slender shoulders."But thank you for your concern."

"Oh, Gamora, but it wasn't excitement I heard. It was _fear_."

She raised her eyes to his immediately. Something in his tone caught her off guard. She felt dizzy.

"No, it's not that I... I think it's time I returned to my room."

Without pause she quitted the couch. She could not face Tivan. Not in her present state. She felt vulnerable. Her true feelings had become impossible to mask. The alcohol left her a swirling mess of emotion. It clouded her judgement, made her mind swim. Images of Thanos looped repeatedly though her head as she stumbled towards the exit of the parlor. It was the sudden, distinct feeling of Taneleer's hand on the flesh of her arm that arrested her movement.

"What is it, Gamora?" Tivan's languid voice mumbled suddenly near her ear. "What does the most deadly woman in the entire galaxy fear?"

Her breath caught in her chest.

_Hold it together_ , her mind pleaded. _Just hold it together._

"Perhaps, your father?"

An audible gasp escaped her lips.

She turned to face him abruptly, shock coloring her visage. As she gazed into his archaic eyes, every muscle in her body tightened. He knew. Her legs began to tremble, and before long her knees gave way beneath her. Tivan caught her by the waist before she could collapse. With one arm snaked around her waist, he moved her to a nearby wall, propping her against its surface for support.

"How?" She asked, her voice a near whisper. "How did you know?"

A gruff laugh slipped through his tawny lips.

"You are more transparent than you believe yourself to be." Resting his palms on either side of her, he leaned in close. The distinct scent of alcohol settled in her nose. "Your history with Thanos is no secret Gamora. What you are and what he made you is visible to all. Your fear even more so."

Swallowing hard, she gazed up into his languid features.

"I am not afraid."

Tivan drew his face closer, eying her intensely beneath the arch of his platinum brows.

"But you are. You wronged him. Now you fear the inevitable." Gamora turned her face from his, an unsteady breath escaping her lips. "What will you do when he comes for you?" He breathed into her ear. "When you find you can no longer run or hide?"

"I don't know," she whispered, silently cursing her own lips. "I cannot escape him."

" _Think_ , Gamora!" Tivan uttered quietly, breaking their momentary silence. "Why did you arrange to bring me the orb?"

Her brow ruffled as she stared into his heavily-lidded eyes.

"What?"

"As I said, why was I your first choice?" He asked again, evenly.

"I knew you could keep it safe. I knew he would not come here. I–" A puzzle piece clicked into place. She squinted at him in disbelief. "You... Are you saying?"

"Thanos will not come to Knowhere, Gamora. You know this as well as I."

"He fears you," she cut in, her chestnut eyes still filled with surprise.

"To some degree. He knows I am a formidable foe." Moving back slightly, Tivan raised his hand and cupped the curve of her emerald cheek. "Gamora, don't you see? I can protect you."

The audacity of his words left her stunned.

She knew it was true. He _could_ protect her. Her value to Thanos was not enough to warrant a confrontation with Taneleer Tivan. Under his protection there was a chance she would survive if ever the Mad Titan decided to seek revenge. Still, the very notion of Tivan's offering was entirely unbelievable. The gesture was startling, and left her nearly wordless.

"I don't understand," she breathed, gazing up at his imposing physique.

Tivan smirked and drew his lengthy palm down the flesh of her cheek. His fingers settled gently near the curve of her shoulder.

"You see, Gamora," he purred, his gaze fervent. "Every sentient in the galaxy knows you cannot take something that belongs to me. If you became part of my collection, I would never allow Thanos to touch you."

Reflexively, Gamora's hands flew to his chest. Her fingers sought to distance his body from her own. Before she could shove him way, Tivan caught her by the wrists, pinning her palms to his broad chest. He held them tightly, his strength surpassing hers entirely. Even with her cybernetic enhancements, she could not overpower the ancient being hovering before her.

"Tivan, you must stop," she breathed, her voice steeped in confusion.

"When you first brought me the orb all those months ago," he whispered into her olive flesh. "I knew I would eventually have to have you. You are one of _last_ of the Zehoberei, and such a beautiful specimen at that!"

Gamora released an unexpected laugh. The incredulous nature of his proposition, coupled with the alcohol in her system, rendered her mind hazy and disheveled.

"You could not keep in a cage, Tivan," she muttered with an accompanying chuckle. "I would kill you if you tried."

"Doubtful," he returned, his listless voice cryptic. "Besides, I would not keep you in some cage." Tivan pulled away slightly and leveled his eyes with her own. "I would house in a most comfortable enclosure." Gamora shook her head, disbelief coloring her features. The smell of alcohol was poignant on his breath. "Consider," he whispered. "Consider how _perfect_ of an exchange it will be. Once you retrieve my artifact for me, I will take you into my custody. Your safety will be ensured, and I too will acquire something I desire. You - a most perfect specimen of a quite nearly _decimated_ race of people."

"Do you really think I would I agree to be part of your zoo?" Angrily, Gamora tried once more to wretch her hands from his hold. "You're drunk, Tivan! Pull yourself together!"

Drawing away suddenly, Taneleer regarded her sullenly beneath his towering shadow. His brow creased, an unidentifiable emotion transcending his features. Sensing the change in his demeanor, Gamora seized the opportunity and wrenched her hands free from his chest.

With a swing of her newly liberated palm she planted a firm slap across his face. The impact was just enough distraction for her to squirm away from the wall where he held her. Taking several step backs from him, she watched cautiously as his expression grew more sober.

"If it wasn't obvious enough already, I decline your offer to be a living exhibition!" Gamora stood straighter, surveying him caress his injured jaw. "However, I will find the Xiphos. Not for your benefit, Tivan, but to secure the safety of the lives of this galaxy."

Without another word, she turned from him and departed, her long tresses shimmering beneath the hallway lights as she disappeared down the corridor.

Tivan chuckled lightly as he watched her leave. The dull ache in his jaw and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth was nearly comical. Raising two fingers to his lips, he sampled the damage. The glossy, red liquid sparkled on the tips of his fingers. He massaged it between his thumb and forefinger briefly before wiping the fluid on his tunic.

He _would_ accomplish his aim.

A smile passed across his lips, revealing his blood stained teeth.

_Somehow_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Tivan. Such a strange and whimsical fellow. How the ages have changed him. There's a lot going on in his head, folks. As for what that is, just stay tuned to find out. Also, please do leave your thoughts on the story so far. I appreciate the feedback and hearing your enjoyments motivates me to write even more. Until next time, ciao!


	4. New World

"You're going where?!"

Gamora sighed heavily as she stared into her transreceiver. Her shipmates sat huddled before her, their faces twisted in confusion. They had been discussing the nature of her mission for the past hour. Under Taneleer's orders, she was not to give too many details away. To defy him would not only result in the loss of the credits he had promised her, but also the loss of her part in the mission.

"Mo'krak. It is a primitive planet. The species residing there should pose no serious threat."

Rocket audibly groaned.

"Mo'krak? More like Mo'crap if you ask me."

Drax nodded in the background.

"I must agree Gamora. Going to a foreign planet under the supervision of the white-haired man is inadvisable. We cannot trust him."

"I am Groot," the baby seedling rejoined, flailing in its flowerpot in the background.

The only member of her crew who had yet to participate in the conversation was Quill. He sat behind the others, arms crossed tightly against his chest as he peered into the distance. Gamora watched him anxiously, hoping he would say something, if anything.

"Com'on Gamora," Rocket began again, "You need to tell us more than that!"

"I cannot Rocket!" She snapped, annoyance getting the better of her. "This mission is classified!"

Her crewmates grew silent.

Immediately, she wished she had used a kinder tone.

"Ah, so that's how it is, eh?" Rocket smirked and threw up his arms dismissively. "Fine!"

With a loud huff, Rocket scooped up Groot's flowerpot and sauntered away. Gamora watched the cybernetic racoon remorsefully as he exited the screen of her transreceiver. For several seconds after his departure the trio remained quiet. An awkward silence descended upon them until Drax opened his mouth to speak.

"I am sorry Gamora," Drax began, turning his face from the screen. "But you forget, we are a team."

With those parting words, Drax took his leave. Gamora protested his exit, but eventually his large frame vanished from her vision.

Only Quill remained.

Gamora closed her eyes, drawing her palm anxiously down her cheek. Much like the others, she knew Peter was upset with her. Though his qualms were more deep rooted than theirs. She watched the Terran aimlessly through the screen of her transreceiver. Not once did he spare her a glance. He remained stoic, staring past her into the depths of the ship.

"Peter!" Gamora cried abruptly, breaking the drawn out silence.

Quill finally tilted his head towards her, his aspect sullen.

" _What?"_

She cringed at the coolness in his tone.

"Peter, I am not doing this to harm you. I am not trying to isolate any of you, despite what Rocket may think. Please, Peter, try to understand that this mission is important!"

"We're supposed to be a _team_ Gamora!" Peter broke out, his voice thunderous. "We're supposed to be," he averted his eyes from her, a grimace swathing his features, "We're supposed to be family."

Gamora's heart sunk into her stomach.

"Peter," she began more gently, "We are a team. The five of us _are_ family."

Quill shook his head and stole another glance at the Zehoberei.

"And what about us?"

Gamora inhaled, a quiet longing coalescing in her chest.

"I don't know what you mean Peter."

Quill smirked sadly, shaking his head in disbelief.

" _Us_ , Gamora. You and I." She turned from the screen, suddenly unable to face him, but he continued on. "This unspoken thing between us. You don't need to admit that it's there Gamora, but don't ignore it." Peter's voice melded quickly from rage to sorrow. "Don't just let it die."

Those last words left Peter's lips almost pleadingly. As they did, Gamora felt the longing in her chest push through her throat and settle in her eyes. A tear threatened to cascade down her emerald cheek, but before it could she rose from her seat and turned away.

The whole reason she had agreed to this mission in the first place was to reel back her independence. The comfort and safety her friends afforded her left her weak. When she was on her own, with only herself to rely on, she had been strong, independent, and fearless. That part of herself was slipping away. Her intentions were never to hurt her friends or Peter. While their sadness ate at her, it was too late to pull out of this mission. She was too invested and the stakes were too high.

"I see," Peter muttered. "Then you have nothing to say."

Gamora turned back towards the screen, enough to meet the Terran's hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry, Peter."

Defeated, Quill rose from his seat and with a silent _click_ the transmission went dead.

For several moments, Gamora stood staring at the empty black screen.

She had succeeded in gaining back her independence at the expense of isolating the only sentients in the universe who truly cared about her. She was surprised at how much it hurt. It was as if a piece of her had broken off and crumbled into nothing.

 _This_ _was not my intention_.

Her heart wretched.

"Lady Gamora," Tivan's familiar voice echoed from the far side of the room.

Stirred from her thoughts, Gamora turned towards the entrance of the foyer to find Taneleer standing solemnly in the entryway. She tried to read him, but found his aspect inscrutable as ever.

"Good morning, Tivan. I... Assume the ship has been prepared?"

He paused for a moment, opening his mouth, then closing it abruptly.

"Everything is in order." He took several steps forward, his long cloak swaying behind his imposing figure. "However… Before we depart, I must apologize for my conduct the previous night."

Gamora's cheeks instantly grew hot. She, too, had acted out of place that evening. The alcohol had got the better of her emotions. She recalled with embarrassment how she let her fears of Thanos consume her. It was not like Gamora to speak so openly, especially not to an acquaintance like Tivan. Even Quill and Drax had difficulty at times coaxing the green-skinned beauty to divulge her emotions.

"I hope you can forgive my drunkenness," he began again, his voice more grave. "It is a vice I've picked up as of late."

Gamora regarded him tentatively before releasing a quiet sigh.

"I accept your apology. We were both out of place. You, more so, admittedly," Gamora stabbed, shooting him a sharp look. "But we both should know better than to mix business with pleasure."

Tivan's tattooed lip curved into grin.

"Even with my inebriation, my offer still stands, my lady."

Gamora raised her brow, showering him with a cool stare.

"Kidding," Taneleer uttered, his grin growing wider. "Now, if you would please follow me to the landing chamber."

* * *

The Collector's ship, the _Magnetar,_ was larger and far more grand than Gamora had expected. She trotted curiously around the interior, inspecting the various gadgets and the large arsenal of weaponry aboard as they sailed through the galaxy.

"See anything you like?"

Gamora turned, facing the voice that echoed behind her.

It belonged to a burly Centenarian named Keio. He and three other sentients compiled the small crew Tivan had assembled for the mission. Said crew consisted of a Krylorian named Velo, a Terran, and one other Centaurian. Velo sat stationed in the helm of the ship. The Terran joined him on the flight deck, aiding in the operations of the vessel. Keio and the second Centaurian, Jaryn, were tasked with security. According to Tivan, the pair had been contracted with the task of protecting her if things went awry on Mo'krak. Expendables, he had called them.

"An impressive arsenal, to be sure."

Keio winked, placing his hands on his hips.

"Feel free to sample anything you'd like, gorgeous."

Gamora almost rolled her eyes, but refrained at the last second.

"It's not like she needs them," a gruff voice rang from the the interior of the ship. The sound of heavy footsteps revealed Jaryn's brawny physique sauntering towards the pair. "You forget who she is Keio."

Jaryn slapped Keio on the back and gave the Zehoberei a suggestive once over.

"I haven't forgotten," answered Keio, "It's just hard to believe such a beautiful woman is actually a deadly assassin."

" _The_ deadly assassin," Jaryn corrected. "And you know what they say about women like that in the sheets, right?"

The two Centaurians broke out in abrupt laughter, Keio punching Jaryn amicably in the chest.

"Boys," Gamora interrupted through clenched teeth, clearly exasperated by their chatter, "While I appreciate your flattery, I have more important things to attend to. Our destination is not far."

The two men exchanged puzzled glances as she sauntered away, taking refuge in her chamber on the far side of the ship. Given the character of her shipmates, Gamora was pleased their journey was nearly over. At their current location, Mo'krak was only two jump points away. The trip had been lengthy, the obscure planet being well hidden in the depths of the universe.

"It's no wonder the Xiphos has not been discovered," the veridian beauty whispered aloud.

_The Xiphos._

The thought of a such a dangerous weapon looming in the universe all this time made Gamora's stomach twist anxiously. She was glad its presence had yet to be discovered. While regarded as fable by many, the long lost relic of the Eternals was said to hold legendary power. The idea of delivering the sword to Taneleer did not soothe her, but she was cognizant there existed worse beings into whose hands the Xiphos could fall. Beings with more nefarious intentions.

_Klack, klack, klack._

The light rapping startled her, provoking a flinch when the door ascended.

Taneleer stood in the entryway, his expression sullen aside from a vague smile gracing his tattooed lip. She had not seen the Elder since the ship left the port of Knowhere. He had disappeared to a presumably private chamber for the duration of their travels.

"Tivan," Gamora began, "I was starting to think we left you on Knowhere."

Taneleer let himself further into her room, seating himself on a nearby chair.

"Velo has informed me we are but a jump point away. I wished to confirm you understood your objective upon landing."

Tivan's demeanor was muted, his aspect somehow more grave than usual. Gamora was quick to take notice. She wondered if he had been drinking again, though she smelled no alcohol. Instead of probing further, she recited the plans for the mission.

"The Xiphos is in a temple on the southeastern end of the planet. Once we arrive, Velo will engage the cloaking device. That will allow me to gain access to the temple without traveling on foot. The species residing there, however primitive, are physically large and consequently strong." Taneleer nodded, encouraging her to go on. "If I run into conflict I'll contact Jaryn and Keio for backup. Once I've located the Xiphos, I'll contact you at the ship. Then we will begin retrieval. Did I miss anything?"

Tivan shook his head, measuring Gamora with his otherworldly gaze.

"Very good. Gear yourself, then meet me on the deck."

Before Gamora could say another word, Tivan exited her chamber. She watched his towering figure disappear through the entryway as the door descended silently behind him.

Gamora wondered at the strange air that clung about him. While Tivan was almost always inarguably peculiar, the severeness in his aspect made her curious. Given the dire nature of the mission, she attributed his offbeat persona to the seriousness of the situation. Retrieving such a powerful weapon was a delicate situation, one that she imagined her contractee did not take lightly.

Pushing her thoughts of Tivan aside, she grabbed her transreceiver from her bedside and called Quill. The desire to see his face and hear to his voice struck her suddenly, and she acted on the impulse. It did not surprise her when Quill failed to pick up. In fact, she expected as much. She doubted any of her fellow Guardians had any interest in speaking to her. Still, she felt it necessary to leave a parting message.

"Peter," she began, gazing into the transreceiver. "I know you're angry. I know all of you are angry: Rocket, Drax… I can't imagine Groot would be too happy either if he was old enough to understand what was going on. I know this all seems selfish to you, but please try to understand why I'm doing this. I've lost myself Peter. I'm trying to find myself again. Plus, I've done so many...wrong things in my life because of Thanos and Ronan. This, right here right now, this is an opportunity to right some of these wrongs again. Right them on my _own_." Gamora lowered her eyes from the screen, her voice falling to a lower tone. "If anything happens to me Peter, just know… I will always consider all of you my family."

Gamora cut the transmission abruptly, letting the transreceiver fall from her hand.

* * *

"Cloaking device has been activated."

Velo carefully maneuvered the _Magnetar_ to the ground. Through the flight deck's window, Gamora could survey the layout of the planet. It was largely barren with pillars of sand and dust scattered throughout the landscape. On the horizon, she witnessed a small, makeshift town come into view. The dwellings were simple, made with stone, branches, and other components of the environment. Behind the town was a larger structure that towered far above the town.

"Is that the temple?" Asked Gamora, leaning forward to where Velo and his Terran co-pilot, Quinn, were seated at the flight deck.

"Yes," replied Velo, his purple eyes swathing hers for a moment. "Tivan believes this is the temple we're looking for. We should be able to get close enough to drop you off near the entrance. Do you have your plasma-torch and the atmosphere replicant?"

Gamora nodded, motioning to her utility belt around her waist.

"Will it be enough to break through whatever that thing is made out of?"

"I would think so. Given the composition of the planet, and the advancement of the species here, it's likely to be made of some combination of soil, sand, or stone. The plasma-torch should make quick work of any of those."

"Thanks, Velo."

Gamora turned from the flight deck, and continued on to the airlock hatch. Placing the atmosphere-replicator around her neck, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It had been a year since she had undertaken any dangerous task without one or more of her shipmates. For a moment, she doubted her capabilities. Was she still strong enough to complete missions on her own? Would her prowess alone be enough to successfully retrieve the Xiphos? If she failed, would she ever see her fellow Guardians again?

"Lady Gamora," Tivan's solemn voice echoed from the deck. "Are you ready?"

Gamora stole a fleeting glance at the the Collector. His archaic eyes smoldered beneath his platinum brow.

"Yes," she replied, turning her attention back to the airlock. "I'm ready."

The quiet _hiss_ of the hatch made her heart race. Below, the retracting door revealed the sandy expanse of Mo'krak. Dusk had fallen on the remote world, casting the landscape in a deep shade of purple and blue. The temple grew closer as the ship descended nearer to the ground below. She readied herself to jump from the open hatch and drop into the unfamiliar world.

"On my mark, Gamora!" Velo called from the flight deck. "Three, two, one… Jump!"

Gamora vaulted from the ship.

She landed steadily on the ground below, bracing herself with her hands and feet. The soil beneath her fingers felt warm, the heat of the waning sunbeams of the day still lingering amid the grainy earth. Immediately after steadying herself, she surveyed the surroundings of the foreign land. The evening dusk revealed little aside from several fires in the distance. The flames belonged to the small village adjacent to the temple. It was situated meters away, too far for Gamora to make out any details of the habitation.

Turning her attention back to the temple, she scanned the horizon for movement and sound. Detecting none, Gamora kept low to the ground and crept around the circumference of the temple. It was a massive structure, towering miles above the village that lay in the distance. While its construction was impressive, she saw no signs of advanced technology or metal work. Just as Velo speculated, the monolith was constructed of simple material, sand and stone.

Quietly, Gamora glided around the temple walls, stopping when an enormous archway came into view. Bordering the entrance were crude carvings of creatures, each one kneeling before an object that vaguely resembled a blade.

 _This must be the Xiphos_ , Gamora thought, sliding through the vast archway and into the temple. _Tivan was right, they are worshiping it._

The interior of the temple was faintly lit with torches. Smoke billowed from the embers, tickling Gamora's nose as she inched further inside. Scanning the inner walls, the Zehoberei discerned more of the simple carvings apparent at the entrance of the temple. The engravings painted a similar scene, depicting a crowd of beings worshiping a mighty blade. Moving forward, her gaze fell from the decorated walls to a narrow passageway in the central chamber.

Inching toward the pathway, Gamora noticed the slim corridor led to a massive door. The structure had several indiscernible markings above the entrance, but no knob, handle, or other visible mechanisms to facilitate entry. With no better way to get inside, the Zehoberei sought the plasma-torch from her utility belt. It made quick work of the door, melting the sand and stone away with ease. Once a sizeable hole was placed in the blockade, she retracted her plasma-torch and climbed through.

 _If the Xiphos is anywhere_ , Gamora thought, pulling herself through freshly made hollow, _it has to be here._


	5. Landing

A cough erupted from Gamora's verdian lips as she stumbled into the dark chamber. Breaching the doorway had left her covered in a fine layer of sand and dirt. Using her slender fingers, she brushed the gravel from her chocolate-colored locks. Once the bulk of the sand was gone, she straightened up and surveyed the unfamiliar space.

Compared to the rest of the temple, the room was comparatively more modest in size and appearance. Four walls were constructed in a perfect square with an impossibly high ceiling up above. All was dim aside from a faint glow in the center of the room. Gamora squinted her sable eyes at the weak luminescence, venturing to discern the nature of object projecting it. Inching forward, Gamora's eyes widened as the source of the feeble glow came into focus.

On a pillar of smooth sand laid a sword.

The blade was extensive in size, but also lithe and and supple. It radiated a pale blue light that grew brighter and more vibrant the closer she approached. The hilt was intricately decorated; engravings in an archaic language furnishled the cross-guard. At the very tip of the hilt, the pommel was carved into an intricate star.

The longer Gamora gazed upon the sword, the dimmer and more silent her surroundings became. She could see nor think of nothing other than the blade that lay before her. With trembling fingers, she reached an unsteady palm towards the hilt of the sword. An inexplicable force pulled her hand forth until her forefinger skimmed the edge of the ancient blade. The moment her flesh connected with the cold metal, Gamora gasped.

A voice called to her in a language she could not decipher. Deep and baritone, it asked of her the impossible. Pleaded that she fulfill an ancient prophecy. The sword called upon her, recognizing her worthiness to wield it. While her past was tainted, she was pure of heart and mind. Her soul did not crave such vices as destruction or power. Somehow, she knew it was Kronos, the archaic Eternal speaking to her through his forsaken weapon.

" _Ta kiok."_

Garmora fell to her knees.

The abrupt voice shook her from her reprieve. For a moment she sat there, a nearly imperceptible tremble arresting her svelte body. Tears rolled from her eyes, though she felt no sadness or pain. It was not until the gruff sound of a foreign language reminded her surroundings once more. Stumbling to her feet, Gamora turned to find several large, hulking beings standing in the entryway.

Compared to most sentients she had encountered, these were gigantic, much like Tivan had alluded. They stood on two feet, erected much like humanoid creatures, but were covered in fine layer of fur. Their faces were embellished with two slim, black eyes and a small snout. For several moments the beings stared blankly at her, speaking in their native tongue excitedly. She noticed their long, claw-like fingers continued to motion towards her hand. Glancing down, Gamora was surprised to see the Xiphos was clutched tightly in her palm.

Within seconds, a loud, deep growl emanated from the largest of the inhabitants.

 _Time to get out of here_.

Sliding the Xiphos into her utility belt, Gamora unleashed her twin blades. The metal hissed with warning, provoking the native sentients to move back several feet. Once they were distracted, Gamora charged into the large group, lunging forward and swinging her leg beneath the greatest of them. The creature stumbled, then fell face first into the dirt below with a loud thud. The others, who appeared stunned by their comrades incapacitation, were slow to realize Gamora's approach. With quick, supple movements, she took the sentients down one by one.

Their large, heavy physiques proved easy for Gamora to surpass. She was no simple Zehoberei. The bionic enhancements and years of combat training had left her not only strong, but skilled beyond most creatures in the galaxy. Although her blades proved effective for intimidation, she used only her fists and her legs to incapacitate the natives. Gamora had no interest in killing any of the primitive sentients residing on Mo'krak. They had no notion of the artifact they possessed, nor did they ask for such a weapon to be placed in their hands.

With the bulk of the hostiles down, Gamora decided to make a break for the passageway that had enabled her entrance into the chamber. Speeding forward, she laid an uppercut on one of the natives, then leapt above their stumbling form. Sprinting as quickly as her legs could manage, she maneuvered her way through the single corridor until the sight of the temple's entrance came into view. Excitement flushed through her body, a smile appearing on her viridescent lips as she breached the final archway into the cool night air.

As quickly as it appeared, the smile on her lips died.

A large, mountainous crowd of natives armed with rudimentary weapons surrounded the colossal temple. Upon seeing her, the horde began chatter, growling and snarling in unison with a foreign chant.

" _Ta kiok! Ta kiok! Ta kiok!_ "

 _This is bad_ , Gamora thought, studying the horde of sentients before her. _There's no way I can get through a large group like this._

Her only option was to flee and contact the ship. With any luck, Jaryn and Keio could draw their attention elsewhere, allowing her to escape with the Xiphos.

Without another thought, Gamora produced her communicator device.

"Keio, this is Gamora. I need a diversion. There are too many of them assembled around the temple. I have no way out of here."

Holding the communicator in her palm, she waited tensely for a response. Luckily, it came only seconds afterward.

"Way ahead of you, gorgeous," Keio's husky voice responded.

The distinct sound of gunfire rang out from behind the large hoard. Puzzled, the inhabitants turned their attention to the noise. Gamora watched as their expressions melded from puzzlement to rage. Equally intrigued, Gamora peered through the dense crowd of sentients until she caught sight of the two familiar Centaurians. Keio and Jaryn rang through the crowd, firing their weapons and drawing the scrutiny of the massive hoard.

With their attention averted, Gamora snuck past the entrance of temple. Their appearance would provide enough time get back to ship and safely deliver the Xiphos. Just as she was going to summon the _Magnetar_ for retrieval, Jaryn's voice struck her.

"Keio!" He cried, his voice reverberating from the distance. The distinct sound of alarm in his utterance sharpened Gamora's senses. "Get off of him!"

Unable to disregard Jaryn's distress, Gamora doubled back. The crowd had concentrated itself where Jaryn and Keio had stood at the base of the congregation. Short bursts of gunfire could be heard amidst snarls and the indecipherable language of the natives. Gamora fought her way through them, rounding the perimeter of the hoard until the vibrant cobalt of Jaryn's face came into sight. The Centaurian looked to be in pain. His brow was creased and his eyes were ablaze with with a mix of fury and sorrow.

"Jaryn!" She shouted above the enraged crowd of sentients. "There's too many of them! We have to get back to the ship!"

Jaryn's scarlet eyes met Gamora's as he continued to push through the mass. Worry struck her when she realized Keio was not visible among them.

"I'm not going anywhere!" He seethed, a loud grunt escaping his lips as he toppled one of the natives. "They killed him! They killed Keio!"

The rage in his voice was thick and scorching.

Helplessly, Gamora watched Jaryn fight off the mass of natives. She struggled towards him, kicking and toppling those that got in her way, but was unable to move further than mere inches. The Centaurian almost seemed a formidable equal to the inhabitants of Mo'krak, but even his impressive physique could not match their size and strength.

Just as Gamora landed an arduous strike across the face of one of the natives, Jaryn's struggling came to an abrupt stop. She watched the life in his cardinal eyes fade until nothing remained but two hollow, empty spheres. Jaryn fell to the ground below, the animated sounds from the crowd evidence that their foe had been defeated. Despite how aggravating the two Centaurians had proven themselves to be, Gamora did not wish death upon them.

With Jaryn and Keio both gone, Gamora knew she needed to return to the _Magnetar_. She attempted to backtrack through the large crowd, hoping their momentary elation at the Centaurian's defeat would afford her enough time to escape back to the ship. She slinked through the hoard of sentients, pushing through their enormous bodies until a taunt tug on several locks of her hair caused her to halt. Before she could release herself, she was yanked back several feet. A startled yelp issued forth from her lips as the Zehoberei was hauled backwards and violently tossed to the ground below.

The impact made her cry out. Her head swam from the sudden pain. Above her, a swarm of natives converged on where she lay sprawled upon the ground. Their immense forms surrounded her from every side, merging together until a large circle was formed around Gamora's immobilized body.

 _There's just… Too many of them,_ she thought, scrambling to withdraw her communicator.

"Tivan!" She cried, into the device. "We've been overrun!"

Before she could finish her thought, two enormous, clawed hands converged around her emerald neck. Panicking, Gamora dropped her communicator and ventured to wrench the colossal palms from her body. She tore at the creature, thrashing furiously against the ground below. Despite her efforts, she could not free herself from the sentient's enormous strength. Overhead, more of the natives gathered above her, watching silently as their companion suffocated her. In their eyes, she was burglar, one who had desecrated their place of worship and stolen their coveted idol.

As Gamora's lungs burned for oxygen, time appeared to steady around her. Her movements became slow, dwindling until her outbursts were weak and feeble. The mountainous bodies above her fused into an amalgamation of colors as her eyesight grew cloudy.

 _This is it then,_ Gamora thought as her vision went dark. A faint ringing in her ears was the only apparent sensation she could perceive aside from pain in her neck. _This is how it ends_.

She felt foolish in her final moments. If only she had realized it sooner. Peter, Drax, Rocket, and Groot... They deducted nothing from her strength. Her friends, her _family_ , they did not weaken her.

_They made me stronger._

Whatever strength Gamora had, whatever aptitudes she possessed, her fellow Guardians only amplified these qualities. While she possessed tremendous strength and skill on her own, when she was with her them, she possessed something more. She wished she had realized it sooner.

_Peter, forgive me._

" _Gamora!"_

Through the darkness, she heard a voice call out to her.

_Peter?  
_

Before she cold discern the origin of the voice, Gamora began to choke violently. Abruptly, it occurred to her she was breathing again. Fresh, cool air filtered into her lungs. It had been too long since she tasted oxygen. The sensation was almost euphoric. Just as quickly as her breathing returned, so did her sensations. She could see once more, and the dusky expanse of space was the first sight to meet her sable eyes. Motionlessly, she watched the stars glitter above her. They danced across the great horizon, dispersed between the vibrant light of three small moons.

Drawing herself away from the heavens, she turned her head to the side, cognizant once more of her surroundings. When two large, gagantous black eyes met her vision she nearly cried out in shock. Realizing the creature beside her was stationary, her trepidation vanished. Something had paralyzed the inhabitat.

"Gamora!" The voice from before called out once more.

The Zehoberei climbed to her knees, nearly stumbling back to ground as she searched for the origin of the voice. Upon surveying her surroundings, her jaw slackened in surprise.

The mass of natives surrounding the temple had been vanquished.

Their bodies littered the ground around her, forming a nearly perfect circle. In the distance, she caught sight of what was left of the hoard, a small group of natives charging towards a figure in the distance. For a moment Gamora imagined it was Jaryn or Keio, that one of the Centaurians had survived and successfully undermined the mass of incited setienets. Upon further analysis, she realized it was not Jaryn or Keio who took out the hoard.

It was Tivan.

Taneleer stood in the distance, unflinching in the face of the advancing creatures. The small mass pummeled towards him furiously, stricken with the grief of their fallen comrades. Tivan looked minute compared to the large, hulking sentients that pursued him. A man, swathed in black robes and platinum-colored hair standing in the path of five raging beings twice his size. Gamora wondered at his stoicism. Wondered why he chose to stay stationary in the wake of their approach.

With a sudden flick of his wrist, Tivan held his right palm in the air. His hand was cast in a white glove, fingers outstretched before him. His onyx robes billowed in the darkness, nearly camouflaging him amidst the murky night. Then, without warning, a burst of energy ushered forth from his palm. Gamora could not see it, but could hear the low vibration in the air and witnessed his pursuers abruptly soar in the opposite direction. Their burly bodies flew with force through the sky before dropping to the ground.

It was difficult for Gamora to think. Her brush with death had left her faint, and the pain in her throat pulsated rhythmically down her windpipe. Had she truly witnessed Tivan decimated those creatures simply by lifting a hand? Was it possible that he single-handedly annihilated them all? The possibility became more real the closer Tivan converged to where she sat amid the mountains of bodies. Somehow, she felt relieved it was not a dream, and relaxed back to the ground before closing her eyes once more.

* * *

The Zehoberei's virescent lids drifted open, long lashes fluttering tentatively. It was impossible to see among the bright, white light that radiated from above. The glare left her blinded, disorienting her among the various pains that afflicted her body. Sighing, Gamora struggled to gain her bearings until her fawn-colored eyes adjusted to the light.

Instead of a dry, desolate planet, she found herself in a sterile room.

It was a small, but clearly functional, medical bay. Various machines hummed quietly amidst an array of medicines, bandages, and solutions. Gazing downwards, she found herself situated in a compact bed. Several bandages had been wound around her limbs. She drew an emerald finger across one bandaged wound, flinching slightly at the pain.

“Awake at last.”

Startled by the abrupt voice, Gamora’s eyes shot to the entryway of the medical room.

“Tivan,” she breathed, a sharp pain in her throat arresting her train of thought.

“There is no need to speak, Gamora,” he began, observing as the Zehoberei slid her palm to the base of her throat. “There is no need to worry. We are on the ship and you are safe.”

Despite Tivan’s insistence on her silence, Gamora felt compelled to speak. There were too many questions that needed answering. What had happened down on Mo’krak? How had Tivan managed to fight his way through the hoard of native sentients? Most importantly, though, where was the Xiphos?

“Tivan, I must know what happened down there,” she managed to whisper. “What of the weapon?”

Tivan’s tattooed lips curved into a smooth grin.

“The Xiphos is safe,” he answered calmly. “You did it, my dear Gamora.”

An abrupt, breathy chuckle followed Tivan’s words. It was laughter of both relief and elation. The Xiphos was safe. The _universe_ was safe. The ancient blade could no longer fall into sinister hands. That darkness Gamora could not erase, those ill deeds of the past that stained her, were once more replaced by light. She had helped ensure the protection of innocent lives in the galaxy. She had redeemed herself, if only a little.

“I am glad the weapon safe,” she replied, the hint of a smile present on her verdant lips. Then, turning her gaze back to the Elder, her tone grew more hushed. “You saved my life, Tivan. I do thank you for that.”

Each word she spoke reminded her of her brush with death. The pain reverberated down her windpipe like small wildfires. If it were not for Tivan’s intervention, she would have been crushed to death and cursed to die alone beneath the moon of Mo’krak. Since meeting Peter, Drax, Rocket, and Groot, Gamora no longer pictured her death to be solitary.

“You owe me no thanks,” Tivan replied, rounding her bedside. Gamora watched his black robes billow around him as he seated himself on the edge of the mattress. “In fact, I should be thanking you,” he added, leveling his gaze with her own.

Gamora smirked, shaking her chocolate-colored locks.

“With that kind of power, I almost fail to see how necessary I was.”

Quietly, the Zehoberei recalled the image of Tivan on Mo’krak. He had immobilized their enemies with a mere flick of his wrist. It was a wondrous and frightening sight, one that reminded her of Tivan’s true capabilities. Within the last several centuries, his reputation had degraded rapidly. He had grown peculiar and outlandish. Many regarded him as a shut-in, obsessed only with maintaining his vast collection. Still, beneath Tivan’s peculiar facade was something more. Something wiser, rational, and more dangerous. 

“Surely you could have taken the Xiphos yourself?” She inquired, feeling acutely more exposed beneath his ancient, deliberate stare.

“Oh, Gamora, that’s not the case at all,” he assured, running his gloved fingers through his platinum locks. “You are far more quick than I am. More lithe, agile, discreet.”

“Perhaps,” returned the green-skinned beauty. “Those creatures, Tivan," she added suddenly, "Please tell me you did not kill them all."

The Collector shook his head, frowning slightly.

"No, they were only stunned."

"Good," Gamora sighed, clearly relieved."Evidently, I was not discreet enough to evade them. Somehow they were alerted to my presence.”

Tivan’s countenance grew suddenly more grave, his lingering smirk waning into a neutral expression.

“Gamora, it was not you who alerted them.”

The Zehoberei’s expression became curious as she absorbed Taneleer’s words.

“Not me?”

“No,” he responded, inching forward towards her end of the bed. “It was a blue light.” Tivan pitched his arm in the air, twirling his gloved fingers as he did. “It lit up the entire temple.”

Tearing her gaze from Tivan, Gamora looked at her palm.

_Could that have been…?_

“How long?” She questioned abruptly, catching the Collector off guard. “How long could you see that light?”

“Thirty, perhaps forty minutes,” he replied, watching her curiously.

Gamora took a breath, attempting to settle her nerves. She recalled touching the Xiphos for only a moment. Had the ancient blade truly spoken to her that long? If so, why did she remember so little?

“Gamora,” Tivan murmured, his tone dropping in pitch, “What exactly happened in that temple?”

She looked at him nervously, confusion evident in her sable eyes. Recalling the memory was difficult. It was fractured into bits and pieces, spread haphazardly across her mind. Unable to recollect the event, she turned from him, shaking her head in defeat.

“I can’t remember, Tivan,” she breathed, biting her lip. “It honestly felt like a dream.”

Without a word, Tivan raised his palm to her emerald cheek. Engrossed in her own thoughts, Gamora barely registered his touch. Drawing his gloved fingers down the length of her jaw, he arrested her chin in his palm with a gentle, yet firm grasp. It was enough to stir her and draw her eyes back to his own.

"Try," he commanded gently, his voice crisp.

Absently, Gamora nodded and closed her eyes, focusing on the memory of the blade.

“The sword spoke to me,” she began, straining her injured voice. “It felt like a moment and an eternity all in one.” Tivan raised his platinum brow, intrigue brewing in his eyes. “There was so much power and information. It was… It was Kronos, he asked me to protect it. To ensure that it was kept safe. That... I was worthy enough for such a task.” Gamora’s eyes shot open abruptly, startling him. “Taneleer, you will protect it, won’t you?”

Tivan regarded her for a moment, his expression vaguely shocked. Gamora had never addressed him so informally, a clear oversight in her current condition. Recalling the memory had left her rattled. She shook with an emotion she could barely identify.

Drawing back, Tivan offered the Zehoberei a cool smile.

“I have no intention of using the Xiphos for any purpose that would alarm you.” The archaic rose from his place at her bedside, turning from her and facing the opposite side of the room. “Still, Gamora, it does not surprise me that the blade chose to speak to you,” he muttered, his voice contemplative. “Your morality is truly just, a strange turn of events for a child of Thanos.” He turned back suddenly, his dark robe rippling in the air. Something in Tivan’s expression left her unexpectedly weary. “That is why this hurts me all the more,” he mumbled to himself, approaching her bedside again, “But the blade is absolutely useless to me in its current state.”

Leaning forward, Tivan lowered himself until his forehead was inches from hers. The gesture made her flinch, but the Collector made no move to alleviate her discomfort.  

“Tivan,” she protested, but was hastily hushed by him.

“No, Gamora, listen,” he whispered intently. “Take my hands.”

With sudden vehemence, she felt both her palms arrested in his own large fingers.

“Tivan, what are you doing?” She breathed, unable to decipher the strange shift in his demeanor. The grip on her hands was incredibly strong, despite her attempts to free herself. “You're not making any sense!”

Taneleer’s expression was entirely solemn, with a nearly imperceptible hint of feverishness.

“Just know this, Gamora. I am so very sorry,” he uttered softly, towards the base of her ear. The vibration of his words made her shiver. “I hope you can forgive me.”

_Click, click._

Gamora's eyes shot down to her wrists, mouth parting in silent shock. He had restrained her to the metal bars of the bedside. The sight left her dizzy, and somehow more frightened than she had been grazing death on Mo’krak.

"Tivan," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly. "What is this?"

Gamora pulled fruitlessly at the shackles. They were thick and well-constructed. She looked to Tivan, her expression demanding an explanation. His visage offered nothing except indifference. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Gamora began to thrash her free legs in response. The shock had transformed into something coarser, more angry.

“Gamora,” Tivan cautioned, apprehending her slender legs. “Do not make this harder than it already is. I don't want to hurt you, but I will.” With ease, Taneleer arrested one of her flailing limbs, shackling it down to the bedside. The second leg proved more difficult. With force, Gamora managed a direct kick against his chest, nearly knocking the air out him. Though the strike caught him off guard, he quickly recovered. “Quite the kick,” he muttered, a chuckle issuing from his broad chest. “Those enhancements make you quite powerful.”

With surprising swiftness, the Collector caught her stray limb in his arms, finally restraining it with a satisfying _click_. Despite her own vigor, the man’s ancient strength surpassed her own.

“Let me go, Tivan!” She cried, nearly breathless. Gamora’s alarm was blighted only by the encroaching feeling of foolishness. She was being betrayed. Her friends had tried to warn her, but she failed to heed their warnings. Deception was an empty, sick feeling. She wondered at the reason for his sudden betrayal, struggling to understand Tivan's bizarre actions. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“As you already know, Gamora,” Tivan began, his voice gruff and hollow, "The Xiphos is an extremely powerful weapon on its own. However, for my purposes, the sword requires its companion.”

Gamora struggled against the bed, baring her teeth at him like a trapped animal.

"Companion? What does _that_ have to do with me, you fool!"

The Collector chuckled, shaking his head as he observed her writhing beneath him.

"As it so happens, my lady, its companion is in the possession of someone who has been... Searching for you."

Gamora's blood ran cold.

"Searching for me?" She mouthed, nearly inaudible.

Heat rose in her breastbone as Tivan's words danced in her mind.

Searching for her? No, it could not be who she feared it was. Not him, anyone but him. Not the man who had massacred her people and inflicted years of torture on her body. The being who used her as a weapon to further his own personal gain. The one who forced her to brutally fight her sister day in and a day out until the two were broken and hated each other. She would rather face any other fate.

 _Let it be the Ravagers,_ she pleaded. _Let it be the Kree Purists. Just… Not him._

Gamora stole a desperate look at Tivan. She scrutinized his face, searching deep into his archaic eyes for an answer.

"No, Tivan," she pleaded, her voice breaking on his name. "You cannot do this." A sob threatened Gamora’s chest as her breathing became erratic. "You cannot! _You can't!"_ Her words trembled as warmth rolled from her cheek.

"But I must, Gamora." Taneleer approached her, wiping away a stray tear with his gloved fingers. "There is no other way."

Fresh rage coursed through her veins. She pulled violently at the restraints on her wrist, imaging the satisfaction it would bring to break Tivan's neck.

“How dare you, Tivan! I _trusted_ you. I risked my life for this mission!”

The Collector's expression remained unchanged. He donned a stony resolve, unperturbed by her words.

“Yes," he replied, his languid voice calm. "And I will be forever grateful for your services.”

Leaning forward, Tivan placed his lips on the base of Gamora's forehead. She screamed bitterly at the gesture, tearing at her shackles with new ferocity. Ignoring her outburst, he kissed her soft flesh, then muttered in a near whisper, "Forgive me, Gamora, for delivering to your nightmares."

With those words, Tivan turned from her and treaded out of the medical room  She watched him leave her, rage and fear mingling in her breast as she ceased her fortuitous struggle.

_I'm so sorry Peter. You were right... You were all right._

* * *

 

Motionlessly, Tivan stood upon the flight deck, fingers pressed tightly to his jaw.

He stared quietly into the cold steel, ignoring the frigid expressions Velo and Quinn wore as the woman was carted from the ship. The fervency in her voice as she condemned him was not enough to tear him from his ruminations. He could hear nor see nothing but visions of the future he would soon create for himself. It was only the shrill voice of one of Thanos' Chitauri that finally dragged him from the reprieve of his dark desires.

"Collector," the reptilian hissed. "The Dark Lord fulfills his end of the arrangement."

The creature produced a rectangular box and presented it before the archaic man. With anticipation, Tivan took the box from the Mad Titan's subservient and opened it. A grin grew upon his grim features as he gazed upon the coveted artifact.

"Quandros' Dagger," Tivan purred aloud, eyes swathing the gleaming metal. "The Vivamus."

"The Dark Lord gives his thanks for your participation in this exchange."

"No, no," Taneleer murmured, his voice emphatic and a near whisper. "The pleasure is mine."

Tivan dismissed the Mad Titan's subordinate, ushering he and the remaining underlings back to the entry point of their own vessel. Turning his attention back to the weapon in his hands, Tivan grinned.

"The Vivamus," he breathed again, entranced by the artifact. "The dagger that would have murdered Kronos Tassarion in his sleep." Tivan stole a fervent glance at the Xiphos. The weapon lay wrapped in cloth upon a table nearby, its zealous blue glimmer reduced once more to a feeble glow.

"With these two weapons, it will at last be possible."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! Hope anyone reading this is still enjoying the story. Thanks for the reviews so far. Tivan's actions might seem like a curve ball, but he has his reasons. Stay tuned!
> 
> Edit (2018): Made a few updates to this chapter, nothing has changed story-wise for all my readers who have read this chapter before!


	6. Redress

Beneath her dark lashes, Gamora watched the Chitauri from the small window of her cell door. She was all too familiar with the Mad Titan’s cybernetically enhanced minions, having had numerous encounters with their kind throughout her time with Thanos. There was no reasoning with their race. The reptilian warriors blindly followed their their Lord’s orders and would willingly die for his cause.

Sighing to herself, Gamora closed her eyes and tried to recall what day it was. There was no way to tell time in her dark, dimly lit cell. Instead, she counted the rotations of his subservients, taking notice when a particular guard would disappear and reappear. A particular Chitauri, distinguished by a scar above his right eye, was her main indicator.

 _Eighteen days_ , she thought, twisting in her shackles.

Above her head, Gamora’s slender wrists hung aloft, suspended by the metal constraints. Her arms ached from the unrelenting tension. The Mad Titan’s subordinates only released her every so often in order to relieve herself and eat the meager gruel they provided her for substance. It was watery, tasteless, and slimy, but as the days wore on, Gamora came to anticipate its arrival.

Between feedings, Gamora spent her time ebbing in and out of consciousness in the frigid, dark cubicle. Sleep was nearly impossible in her current state. Unable to sit or lay down, she dozed standing up, only to wake when the stress on her wrists became insufferably painful. When her thoughts were clear, her mind not fogged by the strain of fatigue and hunger, she cursed Tivan until she exhausted herself with anger and sorrow.

She felt foolish for trusting him. Foolish for not heeding the words of her friends. They had told her not to travel to Knowhere alone. Begged her not to accept the Collector’s cryptic invitation. Instead, she trusted Tivan’s words. Put her life in danger in order to retrieve the Xiphos for him. In exchange for her faith and drudgery, Taneleer sold her to Thanos.

“Knock, knock,” a velvety voice echoed through her cell door. “Anyone home?” Gamora, peered through the small glass alcove, gasping when her cell door crashed open with a violent _clang_. The man that met her vision made her blood boil. “Gamora, how wonderful to see you again,” he jeered, stepping forward into her cell. “You’re looking a little… Strung up.”

“Jarvin,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

Jarvin Yatul was a Kree warlord, one who worked closely with Ronan upon the _Dark Aster_ during his break from the Kree Empire. He gained favor with Thanos after Ronan struck a deal with the Mad Titan over his exchange of the Orb for Xandar’s destruction. When Ronan betrayed Thanos, Jarvin disappeared, rumored to have fled back to Hala.

“You chose to remain a lap dog to Thanos, I see,” Gamora seethed, twisting her restraints.

Jarvin grinned, flashing his teeth as he approached her suspended body.

“I like to be on the _winning_ team Gamora.” The Kree stopped a few feet in front of her, smoothing his sapphire-colored palm down his face in mock sympathy. “Poor thing, it must be hard being on the other end of the stick,” he hissed, breathing the final word with poison.

The Zehoberei narrowed her mahogany gaze, her aspect painted with abhorrence. She wanted to spit in the Kree’s face, but doubted she had the strength to do so.

“Is that what you call it? Hala must be proud of you.”

Abruptly, the wicked grin fell from his lips.

Jarvin had always been jealous of Gamora and her relationship with Thanos. He loathed her strength, beauty, and perfectionism. The favor she bore with the Mad Titan drove him mad with envy. Even Ronan, cold and impassive as he was, approved of Gamora and found her presence amidst the _Dark Aster_ favorable. No matter how hard he worked, Jarvin could never surpass the Dark Lord’s favorite daughter. It was a bitterness the Kree had never attempted to hide.

“You would do well to watch your tongue, Gamora. _I’m_ the one in charge now.” Jarvin took several more steps forward, then pulled a thin metal baton from his belt. “What happens to you here is entirely up to me.”

Gamora scoffed, meeting his violet eyes with equal intensity.

“I assumed Thanos would want to kill me himself, Jarvin. Why send such a weak, bitter man to do his bidding?”

Amused, Gamora watched the rage build in the Kree’s face.

“You’ll be happy to know Gamora,” he began, trying and failing to silence his anger, “that Thanos has no intention of killing you.” The puzzled expression on her face made Jarvin chuckle. “No, no, our Dark Lord, like any good father, understands that children can sometimes be…rebellious. As his favorite daughter, Thanos has chosen to forgive your gross disobedience.”

Gamora’s puzzlement turned into disbelief.

“What are you getting at Jarvin,” she replied, her voice suspicious.

“Exactly what I said, Gamora. Thanos intends to fully reinstate you as his most beloved assassin.” Jarvin paused for a moment, a mischievous grin arresting lips. “However... As merciful as Thanos has chosen to be, as a father, he _does_ realizes the importance of discipline.” 

Abruptly, the baton in Jarvin’s hand lit up, sparking with surges of electricity.

Unconsciously, Gamora began to pull at her shackled wrists.

“Do you know what this is,” the Kree asked, circling her svelte frame. “This is what I call a neuralgia baton. I designed it myself, believe it or not.” Without warning, Jarvin grabbed her by the neck, pressing the baton into her exposed stomach. Gamora shrieked in response, her scream growing louder with each passing second. “Do you like that?” He uttered through a vicious smile.

Retracting the baton, the Kree circled her trembling figure, tilting his head in appreciation as he surveyed her abject suffering. The harder Gamora struggled, the larger the Kree’s grin grew.

“You _vile_ bastard,” she hissed. Never had Gamora felt so helpless and mortified at the same time. Unable to move her hands or legs, she was utterly powerless to defend herself. “You will pay for this!”

Ignoring her outburst, the Kree raised the sparkling weapon in the air.

“You see, it is no regular baton Gamora. When it makes contact with bare skin, it activates every pain receptor in the recipient's body.” He glared up at her, his eyes hot with animosity. “I’ve tested it many subjects already. They’ve described it as the most painful feeling they’ve ever experienced. Would you agree with that assessment, Gamora?” The Kree broke out in a fit of laughter, waving the weapon tauntingly close to her flesh. “Don’t you see? _This_ is where your repentance begins, Gamora. Right here, right now.”

Rage boiled in Gamora’s chest. The anger and the pain left her raw. Soon, she felt the familiar warmth of tears threaten her eyes. Breathing in a deep, steadying breath of air, Gamora pushed the tears down, swallowing hard. She would never allow Jarvin to see her cry. She would not afford him the satisfaction. Meeting his gaze once more, she shot him a murderous glare. 

“So be it then, Jarvin.”

The Kree laughed aloud, his throaty chuckle reverberating off the walls of her cell.

“Will we reach Thanos in two weeks. You will be _fully_ disciplined before then.”  

Gamora watched Jarvin raise his weapon, resisting the urge to flinch as he readied his strike. Before he could swing the baton at her exposed flesh, the door of the cell swung ajar revealing one of the many Chitauri guards.

“Captain Yatul,” the creature croaked, “Our vessel has been breached.”

The color drained from the Kree’s face. Gamora watched his violet eyes dart from her to the Chitauri, finally settling on the guard standing in the doorway.

“Breached by who?” He questioned, deactivating the baton. “Who would dare?” Glancing back at Gamora, a defeated snarl was audible in his throat. “We will finish this,” he hissed at her quietly, voice brimming with agitation. Without another word, the Kree marched through her cell door, barking crisp commands to the Chitauri guard as he trudged out of sight.

The moment her cell door shut the tension in Gamora’s body slackened. She relaxed into her restraints, ignoring the pain in her wrists that followed. After departing the _Dark Aster,_ she never expected to see Yatul again. While the Kree was a more welcomed sight than Thanos himself, his news of the Mad Titan’s intentions were distressing. After twenty years, she was finally free from her oppressive father. She had no desire to be reinstated by his side.

 _I have to get out of here_ , she thought, pulling helplessly at her shackles.

With Jarvin running the vessel, Gamora knew the next two weeks would be torturous. Though Thanos was clearly using Jarvin, it was evident the Kree had taken his own liberties with her treatment. The Mad Titan would not have gone to such extremes. Shackles, gruel, and torture were too harsh of punishments for his favorite daughter. At the very least, Gamora hoped Yatul would be penalized for his behavior. The idea of witnessing Jarvin’s humiliation almost made her smile.

Before she could consider the idea further, an explosion issued forth from the ship.

The sound startled the Zehoberei. Beneath her feet, the ship rumbled angrily. Her mind quickly wandered back the the Chitauri guard’s words. Perhaps the breach in the ship was serious? If so, the circumstances could give her a chance to escape. She listened quietly to her surroundings, concentrating intently as the Dark Lord’s underlings rushed towards the source of the explosion.

 _Who would dare breach a Chitauri vessel?_ Gamora wondered, staring into the small alcove in her cell. _Why this ship?_

_Bang, bang, bang._

The sound reverberated violently through her door. There was someone on the other side. She squinted her eyes, peering through window of her cell. If it was a guard, they were surely planning to move her to another ship. Unlike the other prisoners on the vessel, Gamora was a top priority to Thanos. Gazing through the minute opening, she tilted her head in surprise as the figure came into view. It was not Chitauri, nor was it her Kree adversary. It was a figure cloaked entirely in black, their face obscured by complementary mask.

Another _bang_ reverberated through the metal door.

“Peter?” She mouthed, mouth ajar.

Instead of an answer, a small explosion erupted from her door. Gamora screamed, turning in her shackles to shield her eyes from the debris. Turning back towards the entrance, her heart began to race. Perhaps it was Peter? Perhaps all of her Guardians had come to rescue her? She watched with bated breath as the smoke settled around her. The shadowy figure became more and more pronounced, until the outline of the masked man was in full view.

“Peter, is that you?” Gamora breathed, desperation evident in her voice.

The figure did not respond to her inquiry, but instead rushed forward, pulling a portable laser out of their pocket. Taking the tool, the man quickly cut each of Gamora’s chains, starting at her feet and working up towards her wrists. All the while, she watched the man intently, trying to uncover his identify. It was impossible to tell, every inch of his body was clothed except his eyes.

Once her final shackle was cut, Gamora dropped to the floor. Being suspended for so long had made her legs weak. The full weight of her body was burden for her frail, malnourished limbs. Anxiously, the cloaked figure wasted no time, and grabbed her lithe frame from the floor. Placing one arm around his shoulder and the under her waist, he propped the Zehoberei upright and took off through the cell door.

As the man stole her away from her small prison, Gamora tried to catch his gaze. Each time she tried, however, the man would advert his eyes from hers. He would not look at her, nor would he utter a single word. Instead, he would point and make gestures, indicating their next turn or when a Chitauri was nearby.

 _Even if it isn’t them_ , Gamora mused, _anywhere is better than with Thanos._

The thought comforted her, and the green-skinned beauty clung more carefully to the side of her liberator. The entire endeavor was nearly a blur as they rushed through the halls of the vessel. She was weak and in pain. Hunger afflicted her and dehydration made her dizzy. It was difficult to keep up with the unknown man, but she tried her hardest to press forward. When they finally reached his destination, Gamora collapsed, and he took her gingerly into his arms.

“Where are we?” She whispered, glancing around her surrounding.

Unsurprisingly, the man did not respond. Instead, Gamora took it upon herself to gauge their environment. It was an escape vessel. Small, but with a decent amount of throttle and fair durability. They were made for war and could withstand the elements better than most models.

Closing the hatch behind him, the masked figure placed Gamora into an adjoining seat at the flight deck. Hastily, he buckled her into the chair, then turned and seated himself in front of her at the main controls. The vessel quickly came to life beneath his fingers. The lights flashed on, buttons gleamed, and various mechanical sounds met her ears. Moments later, he hit the ship release, and the minute vessel sprung from the Chitauri warship out into the dark expanse of space.

For several moments, there was silence.

The man made no effort to speak, nor did Gamora. The suddenness of their escape left her voiceless. Only hours earlier, she was strung up in her jail cell, eating gruel and enduring Jarvin’s dark promises of torture. Now, she was seated safely in an escape vessel with a man she did not know.

Who was this person and why did they save her?

“Tell me,” she began, nearly breathless. “Is that you Peter?”

The man tilted his head in her direction, just enough for him to see her in his peripheral, then shook his head.

Gamora exhaled a disappointed breath. Although she had guessed some time ago it was not her Terran, part of her hoped she was wrong.

“That’s fine,” she replied weakly. “Then, if not Peter, were you sent by my friends? The Guardians of the Galaxy, they call themselves.”

Once more, the figure shook their head, sending another wave of disappointment through Gamora’s heart. She was out of guesses. Aside from her Guardians, Gamora did not have a plethora of sentients who cared about her well-being. A lifetime of serving Thanos had rendered her reproached by most individuals, although her recent deeds had earned her positive renown on planets like Xandar.

“If not Peter, and not sent by my friends, then who are you, masked stranger?” Her tone was strained, if not desperate.

After another moment of silence, the figure finally shifted. Unbuckling their belt, the man rose and turned to face Gamora completely. Curiously, she regarded every inch of his cloaked form, eventually settling her gaze on his eyes. This time, the man did not shy away from her searching stare. He met her gaze full on, returning it with equal intensity.

Yes, she thought, she knew those eyes. There was something hauntingly familiar about the way he looked at her. She had encountered his hazel orbs before. They were wise, perceptive, and ancient. She knew this man, knew him far better than she wished she did. Before the name could form in her mind, he grabbed the mask and tore it from his head. The platinum blonde hair that met her eyes left her stunned.

“Gamora.” He mouthed the world carefully. “I am afraid it is only me.”

She stared blankly at the archaic man, paralyzed by the various emotions that struck her body. A conglomerate of reactions were taking place in her mind. Sorrow, anger, and rage all coalesced in her breastbone. Memories of his betrayal flashed across her eyes. Unfastening her belt, passion burned dangerously across her visage. Tivan saw it, but did not flinch when she rose and stumbled towards him.

“ _Monster!_ ”

Gamora raised her palm, swinging it towards his face. How desperately she wished to inflict pain on him. To make him feel an ounce of the suffering she had endured because of him. Tivan caught her wrist with ease, catching Gamora off guard. He tilted his head in warning, narrowing his gaze as she raised her other arm in offense. Tivan was just as quick, apprehending her other wrist and securing it tightly in his palm. 

Gamora shook with rage, squirming aimlessly in his grasp.

“Fuck you, Tivan!” She cried, tears threatening her cheek. “I hate you! I absolutely _hate_ you!” 

Her efforts were in vain. Gamora was far too weak to put up a fight. If she were imbued with her full strength, Tivan might have found restraining her to be a challenge. In her present state, however, she was frail as a child. Gamora came to this realization as quickly as Tivan did. Fighting him was futile and thus her tempestuous fit quieted until her rage waned into somber defeat.

Immediately, she slackened in his hold, and in response he released her. She collapsed almost immediately, and he caught her by her waist, staring with an imperceptible gaze at the green-skinned beauty.

“I hate you, Tivan,” she repeated in his arms. “How _dare_ you come for me?”

The Collector nodded solemnly, never releasing his gaze from hers.

“You may hate me,” he whispered, furrowing his platinum brow. “But you could never hate me as I hate myself, Gamora.”

His words baffled her as she gazed up at his towering form, observing his countenance. For once, Gamora was able to discern the emotions that passed across his sullen face. The impassible glower he usually wore was replaced with something more desolate, more pained. Before she could perceive anything further, a voice blared through the comm-link of the vessel.

_“Villain! Thief! You are truly a fool to steal and sabotage that which belongs to our Dark Lord!”_

Gamora immediately recognized Yatul’s voice.

_“You will immediately turn around, return what belongs to our Great Titan, and be subjugated to the appropriate punishment for your crimes! If you fail to do so, you and your cargo will be blown out of the sky!”_

Tivan turned suddenly towards Gamora, picking her up and placing her back into her seat. He made quick work of her safety restraints, before seating himself back at the main controls.

“What are you doing?” She cried, her tone exasperated. “He’s going to kill us both!”

Gamora watched as the Elder throttled the ship. She knew he was going to try to make a break for a jump point. It was their only hope of escaping the Chitauri ship. It was also their only real chance of surviving. Turning towards Gamora, Tivan met her gaze, uttering a hushed, “Hold on.”

Before she could open her mouth to respond, the ship took off with sudden velocity. Gamora screamed as the small vessel throttled forward. The jump point was close, it was possible they could make it. If they did not, Jarvin and his Chitauri would easily annihilate the entire vessel with only a few shots. Just as the escape craft approached the portal, a sharp explosion shook the entire vessel.  

“We’ve taken fire!” Tivan yelled from the controls. “But we’ll make it!”

Gamora squeezed her eyes shut.

“I would rather die alone than with you, traitor!”

In another moment, their ship crossed the jump point. The familiar, unnerving feeling of transversing inter-space flooded Gamora’s body. While it usually made her nauseous, this time she felt relieved. The warship was far too large to pursue them. With any luck, their small vessel could outrun them. Gamora’s hopes quickly waned as the emergency alarm system within the craft began to sound.

They had taken on too much damage. The ship would not last much longer.

“What are you going to do, Tivan?!” She cried, breathing heavily.

Taneleer did not immediately answer. After a brief pause, he pointed to the left.

“There is a planet there, it’s close enough. We may be able to make it before the ship gives out.”

Tivan throttled the ship once more, using the last of the vessel’s strength to get to the obscure planet. 

“What planet is that?” She asked anxiously, watching its gradual approach. “Is it inhabited?”

“I do not know,” Tivan answered calmly. “I am afraid we will have to find out.”

The small vessel began to shake violently, losing integrity as it neared the planet’s atmosphere. Once it crossed the threshold of the mesosphere, the ship began to descend with rapid velocity. They were going to hit the surface. Hard. Gamora wondered if her current situation was indeed worse than being returned to Thanos. Squeezing into a tight ball, she hugged her body as close she could until the violent stillness of impact stopped them.

* * *

 Gamora groaned. The pain reverberated down each of her limbs like hot lightening. She was alive, but struggling to keep consciousness. Little was discernible in her current state, except that she was being moved. Someone was carrying her in their arms. A warm breeze wafted across her face and tickled her emerald nose. She tried to move her arm to extinguish the feeling, but failed after a few tries.

Suddenly, the movement stopped. She was lowered down, softly, onto the earth below. It was cool and grassy compared the the warmth in the air and felt good against her hot flesh.

“Ah,” she moaned, flinching as her body was placed fully on the earth. 

“Does it hurt?” Inquired a deep, hollow voice from above. His tone was collected and utterly calm. “If it weren’t for your enhancements, I wonder if you would have survived.”

Gamora opened her eyes slowly, squinting at the man above her.

Tivan was covered in a fine layer of dust. Quickly, she realized she was as well. Several small cuts littered his body, and one larger laceration was present just above his eye. It was bleeding badly, as was a small cut on his lip. Gamora looked down, surveying her own body, and found herself in a similar condition.

The crash, coupled with the events on the warship had taken their toll. Not only was Gamora injured from the crash, but she was weak, malnourished, and exhausted from her time in her small prison cell. Resting her eyes, she relaxed into the ground below until the dark pull of sleep took her. She hoped that when she woke she would be anywhere but there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Tivan gets an A effort, right? Gamora might disagree with that assessment though... Hope you all are continuing to enjoy this story! Let me know what your thoughts are. Until next time.


	7. Enternal Rest

Gamora woke to the soft babbling of water. The serenity drew her from her deep slumber, ushering her back into the uncertainties of reality. Consciousness took hold, and with it came every actuality she had experienced up to then. She felt the crash in her bones. Endured the memory of that gloomy prison in her aching wrists. Suffered Tivan’s betrayal each time her heart yearned for Peter, Drax, Rocket, or Groot. Gamora’s reality was bleak, but she knew it was inescapable.

Opening her eyes, Gamora’s previous ruminations were stifled, mouth parting in silent wonder. Her lithe body was laid supine upon a bed of grass and foliage. The cool earth tickled her injured limbs, which were carefully bundled with bandages. Some were traditional gauze, others were makeshift dressings constructed of cloth and leaves. She was unclothed, aside from a large black cloak draped upon her torso. Below her head was a precariously placed bed of fresh leaves. They smelled sweet and poignant, like raw citrus. 

 _What is this place?_ She thought, raising her head aloft.

Gritting her to teeth to subdue the ensuing pain, Gamora absorbed the world around her. It was a large wood, speckled with trees, shrubbery, and an ample creek. Mountainous trees swayed above her, dancing placidly in the afternoon sun. She watched them quietly, entranced by the tranquility they commanded. As she listened to the rhythmic sounds of the forest, it dawned on Gamora how absent her surroundings were of chaos. The arrangement before her was peaceful, a sharp contrast to the turmoil she had previously endured. Grinning, she plucked a coral-colored blossom from the earth and held it to her nose.

“You’re smiling,” echoed an adjacent voice. “How very rare.”

Beside her, Tivan stood aloft, a thicket of branches at his side. Much like herself, the Collector looked battered. His attire was mangled and his body was adorned with wound dressings. He looked weary, but wore a calm repose that obscured any apprehensions he may or may not have felt.

“It’s this forest,” she replied calmly, relinquishing his gaze. “I almost feel at peace here.” A momentary silence descended between them in the balmy air of the woods. She kept her gaze fixed forward, while Tivan kept his trained intently on her. “I have a lot of questions, Tivan,” she muttered finally, casting her mahogany-colored eyes downwards. “The first regarding the whereabouts of my clothing,” she added, stealing an agitated glance at him. 

“I imagine you have many questions,” he replied, kneeling to where she sat. “Here,” reaching forward, Tivan offered her his hand.

Gamora stared for a moment, glancing between him and his palm. Then, realizing her options were limited, she accepted his hand and was pulled to her feet. As she stood, the weakness in her legs promoted the Zehoberi to stumble. She staggered forward into Tivan’s chest, clinging to him for support. Amidst the commotion, the cloak around her bosom slipped unceremoniously. Before the article could fall, Tivan caught it, wrapping it more securely around her frame.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Allow me to make this easier on you,” he muttered above her, his face fixed in momentary contemplation.

In an instant, Tivan gathered Gamora into his arms, lifting her into the air. She protested his actions, admonishing him and reiterating her ability to walk. He ignored her objectifications. Instead, Tivan advanced through the unfamiliar woods, hiking forward until she yielded in his arms.

“Where are we going?” She asked sulkily, holding fast to Tivan’s shoulder.

“To the ship,” he replied evenly. “What’s left of it.”

* * *

* * *

The escape vessel that ushered them from Jarvin’s wrath was decimated.

Due to the severity of the impact, it was little more than a heap of wreckage. What was left of the vessel had been appropriated by Tivan, and used to create a modest encampment. A small dwelling, crafted from variety of materials of both the ship and their environment, laid between two large trees. Accompanying the abode was a sizeable fire pit, and an assortment of rations stashed inside the circular piece of scrap metal.

Tivan promptly offered Gamora food and a basin of water, both contained in metalware from the vessel. She accepted both eagerly, devouring the food in an instant. It was the first time in weeks Gamora had tasted something other than Chitauri gruel. The water, cold and fresh from the nearby brook, felt wonderful against her mouth. She swallowed the contents of the basin greedily, drinking them down until her thirst was satisfied.

Tivan observed her quietly as she drank. His hazel eyes canvassed the green-skinned beauty, watching as she set the silver basin down. Glancing up, Gamora caught his archaic eyes upon her, and stiffened with unease. After a beat, he shifted his gaze, sparing her his intense scrutiny. She could not discern Tivan’s thoughts from his cryptic glower, but was glad for the sustenance he had provided. While she felt she owed her betrayer no thanks, her better self felt it necessary to recognize his actions.  

“It seems you’ve been busy,” she offered, glancing around the camp. “I appreciate the food and water.”

Piqued, Tivan raised his head, muttering, “You owe me no thanks, Gamora,” before running his hand down his face. An uncomfortable silence filled the air at the conclusion of his utterance. Gamora shifted and looked to the sky, observing as the afternoon sun waned into evening. The heavens melted into a rosy orange, accented with vibrant flares of lavender. As she sat upon a mound of grass, thoughts mingling with the evening sky, Tivan spoke again, his voice pitched low, “Your clothing is hanging there, on that tree.”

“What?” She returned gingerly, turning her attention back to him.

“You wished to know the whereabouts of your clothing.” He pointed to the tree and Gamora caught sight of her attire billowing in the wind. “I had no choice but to remove them when we landed,” he continued, resting his face in his palms. “You were covered in blood. I had to sterilize your wounds. ”

For a moment, Gamora pictured Tivan ushering her from the crash. She recalled, from her brief reprieve with consciousness, him hovering above her, blood seeping from a gash above his eye. She envisioned him undressing her, cleaning her wounds, and dressing them with remnants of bandages and cloth from his tunic. Although the thought embarrassed her, Gamora was overcome with unexpected softness as she considered his actions. They mitigated her resentment, but did nothing to extinguish it.

“Despite all of that, Tivan,” she whispered, smiling bitterly, “I still think you’re a monster.” The Collector raised his face from his palms and settled his attention on Gamora. “If I had the strength to kill you, don’t think for a second I would not.”

Anger coursed through her body as she pictured Mo’krak. She had risked her life for that mission, hoping her sacrifice would alleviate the ill deeds of her past. Gamora laughed to herself at the notion. She had undone nothing and saved no one by finding the Xiphos. All she had done was place the sword into the hands of Tivan, a deluded being who took what he wanted, regardless of the cost. He had used her to further his own gain. Then, he traded her to the Mad Titan, knowing the fate that awaited her in her father’s hands.

“Yes,” Tivan began, his voice calm. “Yes, I am a monster.” Rising, he made his way to Gamora, kneeling before her and leveling his aspect with her own. “I want to tell you everything.”

Abruptly, Gamora raised her hand and struck him across the face.

The crisp sound of the strike reverberated through the air of their camp. Her breathing labored as she stared at his injured cheek, exhales escaping in breathy bursts. She was on the edge of tears, overcome by the immorality of his actions. Tivan made no move to retaliate. Instead, he licked his tattooed lip, massaged his cheek, and captured her smouldering gaze with his own.

“I want to tell you everything,” he repeated smoothly.

“Then talk, god damn you!” She commanded, tears cascading silently down her cheeks. “Talk!”

Tivan obliged, seating himself in front of her on the cool mound of grass.

“I noticed it from the beginning Gamora,” he began, staring intently at the ground. “You did not agree to sell me the orb because of the credits I offered you.” Tivan picked a blade of grass, smoothing it in his fingers, before tossing it in the air. “Wealth alone could not have persuaded you to steal from Ronan and Thanos.” Gamora’s eyes never left Taneleer’s face as he spoke. He looked crestfallen, as if a great sorrow weighed on his mind. “What did you say, Gamora, when I questioned your motives?”

The Zehhoberi inhaled deeply, recalling the memory with little effort.

“I said Xandar was in danger. I needed to hide the orb from Ronan.”

A smile flitted across Tivan’s lips as she spoke.

“Exactly,” he replied, finally lifting his gaze to hers. “Not for credits, but for Xandar.” Tivan chuckled dryly, shaking his platinum locks. “Your morality was astonishing. Your desire to save the Xandarians was enough of a motive to betray both Ronan and Thanos.” Tivan lowered his head into hands, once more obscuring his features in depths of his palms. “I knew you would not decline my mission.”

Tivan’s words left her cold.

“You took advantage of me,” she whispered, wringing her hands. “All of them warned me. They said not to trust you. I was foolish enough not to listen.” Gamora dashed a tear from her eye. “You manipulated me. You used me to get the Xiphos. Why?”

Tivan did not immediately answer her inquiry. After a moment’s silence, he rose from the ground, wandering to the large fire pit before them.

“I did not lie when I said the Xiphos was dangerous,” he insisted, lighting the fire. “In the right hands, it could decimate entire worlds. I simply exaggerated the urgency.” With the fire lit, Tivan threw several branches upon the open flames. “You served a dual purpose. Not only would you retrieve the Xiphos for me, but you would serve as a bartering chip.” Tivan stole a fervent look at the green-skinned beauty, his gaze entirely absent of feeling. “Thanos would not relinquish hold of the Vivamus without a substantial exchange.”

“The Vivamus?” Gamora breathed aloud, confusion evident in her voice. As the name danced in her head, a flash of blue light, coupled with a spectral voice, ushered inside her mind. It was a memory. One that she had taken with her from the temple on Mo’krak. “Quandros’ dagger,” she whispered aloud, unsure of how the words had emerged in her thoughts.

“That is correct.”

A hint of curiosity surfaced on Tivan’s face, but died promptly as Gamora rose from the ground. Her expression dripped with quiet indignation.

“I don’t understand. You offered to protect me from Thanos on Knowhere.” Gamora looked at him incredulously, heartbeat blaring in her ears. “Laughable as it was, if I agreed to become part of your collection, you promised to protect—”

“It was a lie,” he interjected calmly. “I had no intention of protecting you from Thanos.” Gamora swallowed hard. Tivan continued staring into the fire. “It was simply another means to an end. Caging you would make your deliverance easier.”

Adrenaline coursed through Gamora’s veins. It numbed the pain in her body, allowing her to charge towards the archaic man. He dragged his eyes from the flames, scrutinizing her approach. Her emerald cheeks were wet with tears. At her side, her hands trembled with contained rage. Unable to control herself, she vaulted towards him, punching him square in the chest. Tivan grabbed her elbow in response, jerking her forward before thrusting her upon on a nearby tree.

“I’ve had enough of your outbursts, Gamora,” he warned, holding her fast to the trunk.

Unperturbed by his actions, Gamora glared angrily at him.

“Do you have any idea, Tivan,” she muttered through clenched teeth,“What it was like being locked up on that warship? Eighteen days,” she whispered furiously, “Eighteen days I was shackled like animal, eating watery meal and praying for death. No sleep, no light, no warmth.” Gamora wrenched in his grasp. “I had no choice but stand there and rot in that miserable cell. Knowing that _any_ moment Thanos could walk through my cell door!”

Tivan looked on from above, casting his archaic gaze down on her. He held fast to her arms, pinning them with ease against the massive tree. In the dwindling light, his features were swathed in deep shadows, obscuring his eyes.

“You knew, Tivan!” She cried, her voice breaking on his name. “You knew how I despised Thanos!” Her sobs were less subdued, her sharp inhales more audible. She wished she could break him down into nothing, until he was crumbling as much as she was. “You traded me like an object! For what? A sword and a dagger?” Gamora laughed in somber disbelief. “Why?”

Tivan was silent, a deep sigh issuing from this broad chest.

“Why,” he began, silently. “You ask me why?” A smile ghosted across the Collector’s lips. He leaned forward, meeting Gamora’s eyes with a feverish intensity. “You were inconsequential to me. A pawn in a larger, more important game.” Tivan’s grasp grew tighter around Gamora’s arms as he spoke. “Why would I throw away my once chance at freedom for a pawn?”

The tenor in his voice rose thunderously, sending a chill down her spine.

_Freedom?_

Abruptly, Tivan released her and made for the makeshift dwelling. Kneeling down, he procured a black bag from its depths before directing his attention back towards the Zehoberi. Stepping forward from the tree, Gamora watched him cautiously, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest.

“Would you believe me,” he muttered, staring at her intensely, “If I told you I once had a wife.” Gamora could not conjure the words to respond. She stared blankly at him, nursing her bruised arm with her hand. “That was millenniums ago,” he added, chuckling sadly. “She died, as most things do, but not I, Gamora. I’ve been cursed with immortality, and thus life only crumbles around me.” He wore a forlorn repose as he spoke, his words soft, but full of mourning. “People, civilizations, planets. I’ve watched them all perish.”

Above them, the last of the evening sunbeams paled. Twilight ebbed into blackness, revealing a multitude of stars. The celestial bodies danced freely in the night sky amidst the planet’s twin moons. Tivan’s languid features were bathed in pallid moonlight, as were Gamora’s, her pretty features engulfed in the lucid radiance of the heavenly bodies above.

“Death haunts me,” he began again, voice a near whisper. “I’ve seen it in my dreams.” Knitting his brow, he closed his eyes, a pained expression swathing his features. “Those that will rise, determined to destroy all life. I’ve _seen_ them.” He surprised a joyless laugh. “Don’t you see? Once, Gamora, we had much in common. I too thought I could save lives.” The Collector stared as his palm, flexing his fingers before tightening them into a solid fist. “I gathered artifacts. Captured living things. All in a bid to protect and preserve the universe.” Tivan’s features were muddled, as if the distant memory perplexed him somehow.

Gamora’s features mirrored Tivan’s. She was astonished. The Collector’s compulsion for hoarding beings and relics was not a mere obsession. His collection had a noble purpose. At least, once it did. Time had convoluted his righteous vision into a peculiarity. It was no longer a duty, but a compulsive hobby. An addiction he fed into until it consumed him entirely. The pieces fell into place into Gamora’s mind.

“Reclaim that, Tivan,” she exclaimed, taking a step towards the fire. “The universe _needs_ protecting.”

Tivan smiled, biting his lip.

“I can’t save the universe, Gamora,” he uttered ruefully. Then, more to himself, whispered, “I could not even save Matani.” Remembering himself, he drew his gaze back to her. Resolve burned in his eyes. “I’ve grown tired of watching life and death repeat itself over, and over again, and over again!”

Abruptly, Tivan opened the black bag at his side, pulling from its depths the two fabled weapons. The Xiphos was just as Gamora remembered. The supple blade radiated a soft blue light, growing steadily brighter in Tivan’s palm. The Vivamus, in contrast, was a rugged blade. Jagged and irregular, emitting a warm crimson glare from its body.

Gamora took a shaky step back, watching Tivan carefully. Something was about to happen. She felt it  in her every atom of her body. The aura that clung about the Elder was obscure and desperate. Although she had no notion of his intentions, she was frightened by the possibilities.

“It’s this curse of immortality,” he mumbled to himself. “An impossible curse to break.” Tivan smiled, revealing his teeth. “Or so I thought, Gamora, until I learned of the Xiphos and the Vivamus. The two Eternals put their very souls into these weapons.”

“Then you hope to become mortal?” Gamora questioned, her breathing audible.

Rather than responding to her inquiry, Tivan raised the two weapons in the air. Steadily, the blades grew more vibrant. The Zehoberi gasped as the ground began to vibrate beneath her feet. Anxiously, she held onto a nearby tree, watching with alarm as the atmosphere around Tivan began to change. A bright, white light emitted from his being, casting their campsite in a silver luster. Gamora could only observe from afar, stunned by the scene before her.

“Not mortality, Gamora,” Tivan’s said, his voice imbued with a tenor that was not entirely his own. “The blades promise something far more valuable.” Crossing the blades before his chest, a burst of pure energy surged from Tivan’s body. The blast fanned the flames of the fire, blowing the blazing ashes into the air. “Together, the Xiphos and the Vivamus are fabled to be strong enough to free me.” He paused for a moment, a mien of pure rapture passing through his features. “Strong enough to _kill_ an immortal.”

“Tivan!” Gamora cried, her mahogany eyes wide. _“Don’t!”_

Before Gamora could react, Tivan broke the _X_ of the blades.

Everything went white.

Gamora shielded her eyes. The vibrant brilliance enveloped everything. Around her, wind ripped violently against her skin. Voices, one she recognized with vague familiarity, and the other entirely alien, filled the air. She listened, trying to distinguish their words amidst the chaos around her. They spoke in a language she could not understand, each voice vivid and profound. Then, all at once, their words died out, falling into hushed whispers before vanishing completely.

The luminant white light died with the ghostly murmurs.

Bewildered, Gamora’s eyes adjusted to the dark. She searched, anxiously, until she spotted Tivan upon the ground. He was perched upon his knees, hands lying limply at his sides. His face was tilted towards the sky, eyes engulfed in an ominous silver light. At his knees laid the Xiphos and the Vivamus. Neither blade radiated light. They sat solemnly upon the grass, their brilliance extinguished.

Trembling, Gamora climbed to her feet. Her heartbeat pulsed with deafening might in her ears. She watched, awestruck, as the light obscuring Tivan’s gaze ebbed, revealing his familiar hazel orbs. She searched them, alarmed at their utter emptiness. Seconds later, his knees gave way, and Taneleer slumped backwards into the earth below. His fall was enough to stir Gamora out of her frightened stupor and she rushed with renewed vigor to his side.

“Tivan!” She cried, kneeling on the earth. The Collector did not stir. His body was imboile and still as a resting corpse. Arresting the neck of his tunic, Gamora shook him wildly. “Wake up, Tivan!” His head lolled limply, a sight that stroked the mounting panic Gamora felt. Removing her hands from her tunic, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at the chocolate-colored strands.

 _What do I do?_ She thought, wildy. _Why do I care?_

Gamora bit her viridescent lip, placing her hands over her temples. Why, indeed, did she care about Tivan? The man was a monster. He had exploited and manipulated her. Acted with utter selfishness and cruelty. He deserved none of her mourning, nor any of her sympathy. Gamora mused upon these thoughts, hardening her resolve, until she glanced back down at his decumbent body. The sight of his lifeless visage stroked her humanity and her anger fragmented.

 _He might be a monster,_ she thought, scrutinizing his features. _But then, why save me from that ship?_

Although Gamora’s imprisonment was a result of Tivan’s doing, he had made an effort to right his wrongs. He strove for redemption, knowing his life would soon come to an end. It was little consolation, but it was something. Absently, she glanced at the bandages on her limbs, then to the small dwelling he had crafted. Was he truly a monster? Or was he a lost soul, much like she? Gamora placed an emerald hand on his cheek, running her fingers down the length of his jaw. His face was cold, the ghost of warmth lingering scarcely.

She stared, aloof, at his resting visage, until a quiet murmur manifested in her ear.

Gamora listened intently to the whisper. Turning her head, guided by the disembodied words, she found her eyes drawn to the twin blades that had taken the Collector’s life. Before her the Xiphos' sleek frame radiated azure light, pulsing in the night as it spoke quietly to her. In a trance, she reached forward, crawling on her hands and knees until her fingertips touched the very edge of the blade.

In an instant, Gamora was transported.

Kronos’ deep, baritone voice vibrated through every centimeter of her flesh. She felt the Eternal in her very soul as he answered the question she kept in her heart. Could he be saved? The answer came unexpectedly and in another instant, Gamora was set free of his spell. The murmur died, but the blade continued to glow with renewed brilliance. Gamora felt as if she had been lifted from her plane of existence and placed back into reality. She felt dizzy and awry, but was imbued with fresh knowledge.

Taking Quandros' dagger, she slid the Vivamus across her palm. The blade grew bright red, flooding the ground with rose-colored light. Quandros, Kronos’ capricious, violent brother, had lusted for blood and he would have it. It was not an even exchange for Tivan’s life, but then it was not meant to be. Picking up the lithe blue blade, she cast down the dagger and, without hesitation, plunged the supple sword into the hilt of the Vivamus, shattering the weapon into pieces. White light pulsed from the impact, blinding the Zehoberei momentarily as a cascade of phantom cries sounded around her.

In that brief reprieve that had lasted moments, but felt like centuries, Kronos had agreed to fulfill Garmora’s wish to return Tivan’s life to him. In exchange, she was to destroy Quandros’ dagger, purging his malicious soul from existence in the physical realm. Having fulfilled her end of the bargain, Gamora set the Xiphos aside and fell to her knees where Tivan lay. With bated breath, she watched the Elder fervently. His features were set in a corpse-like repose that lacked the tranquility which death had promised. Behind her, the fire crackled silently, the stars above twinkled, and to her surprise, Tivan's fingertips stirred.

Taneleer was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Until next time. Wish Gamora and Tivan some luck, they're going to need it!


End file.
